


Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes)

by adara, Swlfangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha & Emissary Relationship(s) (Teen Wolf), Alpha Derek Hale, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Good Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Laura Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Laura Hale Lives, M/M, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sassy Peter Hale, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/gifts).

> Collaborative piece by swlfangirl and adara written in celebration of the birth of the lovely isthatbloodonhisshirt, who we adore. Sorry this is posting late but procrastination is life.
> 
> Rated teen for language and eventual descriptions of violence.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic: it has been six years since the Hale fire, Derek is 20, Stiles and Scott are 18 and starting senior year so we're pushing back canon and doing whatever we want with it because we can.

Prologue

  


“Derek, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m not trying to shut you out but I’m going and that’s final,” she says, throwing a few more outfits into the bag. She doesn’t plan on staying forever or anything but she knows from experience that running out of underwear while on a road trip is an inconvenient bitch. An icy shudder runs down her back as she remembers holding the pair of peach cotton panties under the cold tap in that greasy gas station bathroom just off the interstate. 

“You have no idea what you’re walking into, it could be a trap, it’s probably a trap,” Derek says gruffly, almost pouting as he sits on the edge of her bed. He reminds her so much of the young pup he used to be sometimes, though those moments are so very rare that it makes her chest hurt each and every time. 

“Probably,” she answers, not bothering to argue with him anymore. “But even if Beacon Hills isn’t our home anymore, it’s our territory. The Hale Family always protects what’s theirs, _ Whatever It Takes. _” 

_ “Whatever It Takes,” _ Derek replies back, softly mostly inaudible but her Alpha ears manage to pick it up easily enough. 

He’s looking down at the laptop screen displaying a photo of a deer with a revenge spiral carved into it that Dr. Deaton had emailed her when it was brought to his attention by the local Sheriff. She folds it closed as much to get the image out of her sight as it is to get the grief-stricken look of terror off Derek’s face.

“How bout this, you go gather some stuff up, get a little shut eye, and we can head out in the morning?” she asks, though she has no intention of taking him with her. It’s one of the many reasons why she phrased it as a question. 

“I don’t want to go back,” Derek says, which Laura already knew but hearing the truth of it further cements her decision. “But I don’t want you to go alone either. Wait for me.” 

Laura nods, and pulls him in for a quick hug, patting gently at the back of his neck. “Go to bed, I wanna leave before daylight, it’s a long way to California and I do not want to get stuck in rush hour traffic.” 

Derek leaves, however reluctantly and Laura waits until she can hear the soft, even breathing of her baby brother before she slips out onto the fire escape. It’s on the opposite side of the apartment and through her, mostly soundproofed, bedroom so she’s pretty sure it won’t wake him up. When she gets down to the parking lot, it’s dark outside and she has to push the Camaro out of the parking lot and down the street a few blocks. Thankfully, there’s nobody really paying attention so it doesn’t look too crazy. Well it probably does, but who’s going to say something to the She-Hulk pushing a car by herself? Nobody, that’s who. 

She throws her shit in the passenger seat and starts the engine, smiling as she looks back over her shoulder. She quietly puts on a victorious smirk and whispers, “And this is why I’m the Alpha,” before peeling out and heading toward the interstate. 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter 1

Laura is slowly trudging through the seemingly endless construction traffic in Ohio when the sun starts to grace the sky. Eight states left to go and if they’re all going to be like this she almost wishes she’d taken a flight, even though they’re practically unbearable to her sharpened alpha senses. Ugh, it would have been so much faster but she would never leave without this car.

The thought barely has time to cross her mind when her phone starts buzzing up a storm in the passenger seat. She knows it’s Derek without even looking at the display. There’s nobody left that has this number. Well, the long term care unit that Uncle Peter’s in has it for emergencies but every time she calls to check up on him it’s always the same pause and a saddened, “Sorry, sweetheart, there’s been no change. We’re keeping him comfortable, don’t you worry.” So she knows it’s not going to be them either. Stable, vegetative patients tend to stay that way and she’d given up hoping for a miracle after the first five years.

The phone rings out to voicemail and immediately starts back up again and again until she pulls off at the next exit and into a distant spot in a mostly empty McDonald’s parking lot. She feels bad for worrying him but really, she _knows_ he doesn’t want to go back and she would never force this on him. He doesn’t want her to go alone, but she has to go and this is her executive decision. Choice has been made. Time to face the music.

She takes a deep breath and finally picks up, voice falsely cheerful, “Derrrrrrr, heeeeeey. Hi there, good morning to you, baby brother. What’s up?”

She’s met by stony silence. She feels his relief at her finally answering even though he’d never voice it. She can practically picture the faces he’s making right now, working through all the stages of grief at once and settling on anger. She can feel it distinctly.

“Laura.”

She flinches at the way her name breaks on its way out of his mouth. Angry to devastated in the space of a word. She feels that familiar ache in her chest again. Shit, she was trying to protect him here not abandon him. She would never, could never.

“No, Der, no. It’s ok.” She rasps out soothingly like she’s talking him back from the edge of an old, deeply-seeded panic. “Really. I’ve got this and I’ll be back in no time. I just- I _ have _ to go back. It’s our territory. I know you don’t feel the pull like I do, but I have to go. Dr. Deaton wouldn’t have sent us the photo if he didn’t think it was worth me checking out. I know you have your reasons for wanting to stay as far away as possible from Beacon Hills, God knows we both do, but I have to do this. I took the car but you have a fully loaded metrocard, I went grocery shopping two days ago, and our latest DVD rentals came in the mail yesterday. You’ll be fine for a few days, ok, just stay in if you’re worried about being there without me.” She’s rhythmically twirling a lock of hair through her fingers as she speaks, keeping her breaths even and hoping that calmness and sense of assuredness will translate to him at this distance.

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line and she hears him take a sharp breath, “I am not scared to be alone here Laura. Just tell me how far you got and I’ll catch up.”

“Please don’t make me use my alpha voice, Derek. Stay home, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Laura. You can’t go alone. We’re better together and you know it.”

She knows she’s not going to win this argument and runs a hand down her face in defeat, slouching back in her seat as she says, “Ugh. Low blow, but true facts. I’m at least 700 miles deep and I love you but I am not driving back through Ohio and Pennsylvania to get you so how exactly are you planning on catching up?”

She hears him tapping away on the keyboard on his side of the line, comparing his options as quickly as possible while she debates the virtues of a chocolate shake and apple pies for breakfast, maybe a parfait, when she hears a defeated sigh.

“I’m catching a flight out of JFK. Meet me at the airport?”

She peers at her map, considers how many hours of travel time she’s got ahead of her as speed limit-ish speeds and how many hours at speeds that make it worth owning a Camaro. “Yup. I can be there tomorrow morning. Nothing is going to happen in the meantime. We’re both fine, okay? You’re fine, I’m fine, we’ll be together in the morning and we’ll be even more fine. K?”

“Laura,” he says again, steadier this time. She hears what he wants to say though. Be careful. You’re all I have left. You shouldn’t have left me here. We shouldn’t go back. This is a bad idea.

“We’re fine. Go get that cinnamon brioche you like at Levain and chill for the day. Also maybe some earplugs and Vicks or something for the flight, sorry baby bro.”

Derek is probably not going to be very forgiving about his upcoming airline experience and she’s not looking forward to his retribution but for now he doesn’t seem to have anything else to say.

“We’re fine, Der. Really. I’ll catch you in the morning, call if anything changes in the meantime.”

He grunts affirmatively and hangs up. She decides she has earned that milkshake and heads inside, stretching her legs for a few minutes, before she hops back on I-80 for the next forever.

* * *

The bitchface is real when Laura pulls up to the terminal’s passenger pickup lane. Derek throws his bag in the back seat, takes off his leather jacket and plops it right over Laura’s face as he climbs in and gets buckled in complete silence. His scent shifts from notes of stress and fear to more comforting chemosignals now that they’re within arms reach and back in the same time zone.

He does smell vaguely of Vicks and she wonders for a moment while pulling the jacket off her face and down onto her lap if it helped with all the people smells and recycled air. She’d read about OR nurses doing that under their surgical masks once. The jacket kind of makes her gag even though the side facing her smelled warmly of Derek, the rest of it smelled like too many strangers and yuck. She reaches and gives him a half hug over the center console before shifting into gear.

He’s still stonily silent but he almost imperceptibly relaxes into the seat and breathes in the familiar scents of Laura, Camaro, pack, safety. She feels his anger towards her, or at the situation, abating and lets the silence hold them over for the ride. She’s got a mix cd lowly playing a mix of classic rock that he doesn’t hate as much as he pretends to, the soundtrack to their increasingly tense ride. Every minute brings them ever closer to the same place they’d run from all those years before. It’s got them both on edge.

By the time they’re pulling past the sign at the edge of the preserve that joyfully proclaims, “Welcome to Beacon Hills: Home of the Cyclones” like this is just some normal town, Laura’s flagging. She needs caffeine and sugar. 

She pulls into the motel lot next to the diner, “Go get a room and I’ll go get us a table?”

Derek doesn’t so much as flinch at the sudden sound in the enclosed space after their quiet ride, Laura always thinks she sounds louder than she means to be when they’re in the car. He just nods and heads into the tiny motel office, leaving his bag in the back and jacket still on her lap.

Laura pulls the jacket on. He says he hates it when she steals his clothes but she also knows that he always wears them after and she tries to ignore the pang of guilt she feels about how small she’s purposefully kept their pack and how she thinks she’s contributing to his separation anxiety. She wonders if her mom carried this much guilt as an alpha, but her mom was good at everything, so she thinks not. 

She picks a booth near the door, both so Derek can spot her easily from where he is and when he comes in, and also so she can face the only entrance and exit points. She scans the faces in the diner and doesn’t really recognize anyone, nobody really looks at her twice either which is fine by her. She thinks the waitress that’s bagging some to go containers by the register seems about a year or so younger than her, so she’s likely too young to really recognize Laura and too old to recognize Derek. Perfect and as low key as one could hope for in a town this small. She just wants to eat her breakfast in peace and then get on with this shit show.

“Saturday matinees are the best, Scotty.” A teen with a buzzed head proclaims loudly as he slams the diner door open in front of his floppy haired friend. “Curly fries and shakes now mean we spend less on overpriced popcorn and soda at the theater. The Dark Knight Rises is going to be great, man, I’m telling you. Nolan will deliver. It’s our last weekend before senior year starts and I’m telling you this is the best way to spend it.” 

He waves to the waitress down the counter who nods, like they’re regulars and she already knows what they want. They probably are regulars, but Laura’s been away too long and they’re too young for her to recognize. They’re much closer to Derek’s 20, but definitely younger than her at 25. Those outfits scream high school, at any rate, so she doesn’t think he’s talking about senior year of college.

She watches him flop his way onto a spinny stool at the counter next to his friend, who doesn’t appear to be actually listening to his words so much as staring at the pretty brunette that had come in behind them and gone right to the register. Laura absently notes that must be the to-go order that’s ready as she tries to place the girl in her mind. There’s something about her that strikes her as familiar and not in a good way but she just can’t place it.

The loud one notices his friend’s distraction and spins to see what’s caught his eye. The girl is walking out as Derek’s making his way in. He holds the door for her and she gives a dimpled smile in thanks and Laura sees a brief flash of the same can’t place it look on Derek’s face before his facade is back in place and he’s sliding into the booth across from her. Laura’s warmed by the fact he feels safe enough with her to have his back to the entrance and thinks, for just a moment, that maybe she’s not such a shitty alpha after all. She slides a menu in front of him and turns to watch the girl continue her trek, climb into her black car, and pull out onto the main drag. 

In her moment of distraction, the loud teen at the counter has locked his wide-eyed gaze on them, recognition clear on his face. Shit. Now she has to people, Derek certainly won’t as he’s hiding behind his menu now.

He swirls his chair fully around, like just his head had followed Derek’s progress from the door to the booth until now, and clambers off the stool toward them. She feels Derek tense up before she sees it and pastes a polite smile on herself. Maybe a bit more of an edge to it than strictly polite because he pauses in his approach briefly. She’s tired, sue her.

He brings a hand up to absently rub at the back of his buzzed head as if just now realizing his feet have brought him to their table and this might be awkward. “Hey there, hi. Not to be weird or anything- and I now realize that by prefacing that with not to be weird I am now being inherently weird- sorry, but are you Hales? Derek and Laura Hale?” He says their names much more quietly than he’d spoken in his boisterous yet seemingly one-sided conversation with his friend, almost reverently or like he’s scared he’s going to spook them away and they’ll disappear.

“Guilty as charged,” Laura says, eyeing him. Now that she sees him straight on she thinks she might actually recognize him. The slant of his smile, the constellation of moles decorating his pale skin strikes her as familiar. She can’t quite place this one either but not in the same nagging feeling way. Being back in Beacon Hills is all around disconcerting and she feels off keel.

“Last time I checked there’s no radio code on the police scanner for Hale spotting, so no charges this time.” He laughs and Laura finds herself smiling more genuinely now. He doesn’t feel like a threat to her and there’s something nicely familiar about him, definitely not the uneasy familiar feeling of the smiling girl from before.

“Can’t say I know any police scanner codes so you’re one up on me there,” she trails off quirking an eyebrow in askance.

“Oh. Stiles. Sorry, you probably don’t remember me. We’ve never actually met before. I was in Cora’s class in like 5th grade and I was at the station when they brought you guys in after- uh, after.” And now they’ve landed back in awkward, but at least she’s got a name to go with the face. “My dad, uh just Deputy Stilinski to you then, probably, but anyway I had to stay at his desk and he told me not to bother you. Which I guess I’m doing now but hey six years is better late than never to actually say hi and um, sorry about everything.”

“Thank you,” Laura says, he really sounded like he meant it. Usually, people are so detached they offer false platitudes and condolences, she’s used to that or she was for the short time they stayed in Beacon Hills. In New York, it’s not uncommon for people as young and she and Derek to be flying solo and most people don’t ask why. She gets the distinct impression that he’s experienced with loss himself but isn’t trying to equate his loss to the depth of theirs, as people do. “It’s nice to meet you then, Stiles.”

Derek’s still resolutely looking at his menu and not acknowledging the teen standing to his right. He’s worse at people than she is, she misses when he wasn’t. She misses a lot of things. Being in Beacon Hills is the worst, Derek was right.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” he says, looking only briefly at Derek like he’s aware that he’s made him uncomfortable and is trying to be as considerate as possible in following his lead on boundaries. He nods back over to his friend who has already eaten half their plate of curly fries and is starting to pick at the other half when Stiles notices and narrows his eyes like a sacred treaty has been broken. “I’ve got to be getting back, fries to eat and movie to see. You know, on a schedule. But, uh, let me know if you need anything while you’re in town.”

“Thanks, Stiles. I’ll keep that in mind. We’re just visiting, we’re all good.” Laura gives a little wave and watches him nod briefly at Derek and scuttle back over to his friend, shoulder checking him hard as he goes for another fry. He sounded genuine in his offer for help too, interesting. It might be good to have an in with a deputy’s kid if they find themselves needing to scope anything out at the station after checking on Peter, as good nieces and nephews do, and also checking in with Dr. Deaton to see if there’s any news. 

She thinks it’s interesting that Stiles figured they were just passing through but then remembers that they both look like they’ve been traveling and people who were living here probably would’ve showered and changed at home before dining out. They don’t have a home anymore though and she’s got her heart set on some fresh waffles, a shower, and sleeping til dark.

She hears Stiles quietly say to his friend, “Dude, that’s Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us. His sister Laura is a bit older.”

“Remember what?”

“Their family. They all burned to death in a fire like six years ago. I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him. I still took the bus to the station every day after school then til dad got off shift.”

Laura hears Derek grind his teeth across from her. Stiles is speaking quietly but they’re werewolves and can hear his every word. 

The other hums thoughtfully before slurping down the rest of his shake, “I wonder what they’re doing back.”

Laura’s knocked out of her eavesdropping by the waitress appearing at the table with two glasses of water and ready to take their order. The two teens have left by the time they’re done ordering and she watches them get into an old blue jeep out the window, presumably heading off to their movie, as her first cup of coffee is filled to the brim. She sips it down a bit and adds an exorbitant amount of sugar.

The waffles are just as good as she remembers them being and she smirks when she sees Derek’s cleared his whole plate as well. Diner food is so good, though Derek pointedly ignores her attempts to cajole him into a conversation. She leaves cash for the bill and tip and heads to the car to grab their bags, Derek hot on her heels. 

He nudges her along and keeps moving. She resists the urge to roll her eyes when she sees the bags aren’t there, but only just. For the younger brother he’s selectively chivalrous and always overprotective, he’d brought the bags up and scoped out the room before he came into the diner. He could’ve left her bag, but he didn’t, so either he was getting less mad at her or he wanted the room to start smelling more like them and less like strangers and industrial-strength cleaners. She’d put money on the latter if she were a betting woman. 

She holds a hand out for her room key and lets Derek lead the way to their room from the car. He uses his own key to unlock the door and stays silent until Laura closes and locks the door behind her, slipping the security bit firmly in place even though it really wouldn’t do much to stop anything they’d be threatened by. She’s between him and the rest of the world now and this is probably as safe as he’s likely to feel here.

“You look like shit.” 

“Thanks, Der. You look awesome, yourself.” She deadpans, slipping his leather jacket off and flinging it at him from her spot by the door. She looks around the room and it’s a standard double queen room like any episode of Supernatural. She toes off her shoes and calls first dibs on the bathroom, alpha perks and all. 

He’s in fresh clothes and definitely wearing the Laura-scented jacket when she gets out of the shower. She’s rummaging around her bag for her toothbrush and an outfit. He’s leaning against the front door, ever the guard dog, lest anyone try to find them while she’s indisposed. 

When she emerges from the bathroom feeling more like a person than she has in the last 40 hours the look he levels her with could kill a fainter soul. Not Laura though. She was raised with enough exposure to Hale looks that she’s immune and has her own repertoire to boot. 

“Look, I know this sucks, okay. What happened to we’re better together, hmm?” She waggles spirit fingers at him as she walks closer, tries to radiate encouraging alpha vibes. He rolls his eyes at the attempt and she envelopes him in a crushing hug that he tries to complain about and she bulldozes right over him, “Shush. Just take the hug. You get too grumpy when you go too long.”

Once she feels him relax into it she gives his neck a reassuring squeeze and steps back, looks around the room like it’s going to offer her any answers. 

“Well, I guess now we go to see Peter. It’s ok if you want to stay here, or stay in the car.”

“I’m driving.” He gruffs out, though she’s not protesting. She’s had enough driving for a long while.

She lifts a hand towards the door once she pats her pockets to be sure she’s got her phone, her room key, debit card, and ID. He undoes the locks and she follows him out to the car. She doesn’t ask if he remembers how to get there. They both know where Peter is though neither of them has stepped foot in his room in years.

The long term care unit comes into view and Laura can’t help but flinch a bit out of guilt. Wolves need pack and Uncle Peter has been on his own for so long… but it wasn’t safe for them to stay, it wasn’t safe for any of them. She tells herself this another eight times as Derek parks the car and they walk down the long hall to where she knows her uncle is waiting. 

Laura crouches down, rocking back a bit on her thighs to make it so that she’s looking up to him because it hurts her too much to look down on him. “Uncle Peter… it’s us, Derek’s here too…” she says, chewing her lip when there’s no response from him whatsoever. She glances up to Derek and then toward the door and he gets the idea without her having to say anything. She feels the tightness in her eyes as she knows they’re flashing bright red, _ “Peter Hale!” _she says, trying to do it just the same as her mom used to, but she doesn’t quite have that much authority in her voice, try as she might. 

“Come on, Uncle Peter… we need you,” she says, pulling his hand into hers. She tries to feel for where their pack bond should be but she’s not getting anything from him.

The fact that he’s not coming back to them hits her hard, yet again. She takes a centering breath and Laura promises they’ll be back before they leave if nothing other than to just say goodbye properly this time. She doesn't want to leave him though, it feels _wrong;_ especially now that the threat of Argents isn’t looming over them anymore. 

“C’mon, Lo… you need sleep, we both do. We can call Deaton first thing in the morning,” Derek says, tugging gently at her arm and pulling her up to standing. Her distress is clearly affecting him so Laura does her best to school both her face and her emotions as she reluctantly sets Peter’s hand gently back down with a final squeeze and a wish before she steps away from him. 

“Yeah, we’ll be back soon, Uncle Peter…” she says softly before Derek half drags her from the room. 

* * *

A low growl erupts from the room and for a moment she thinks Derek is having another nightmare, flames and ash licking at his skin, even though he wasn’t in the house he’s got secondary trauma from seeing the aftermath. She does too, honestly, but there’s never a good time to process that. As she becomes more alert though, Laura quickly realizes it was her own raw throat that the noise pulled out of, and she feels something in her chest growing heavier with every passing second. 

A lonely, desperate howl rings out under the full moon and before she can think better of it, Laura’s up and out the door. She shifts as soon as she hits the treeline behind the motel and answers the call of a distressed packmate, following her instincts. 

It feels like both forever and almost no time at all when she sees someone through the trees, feels that wrongness so heavy in her chest that it catches her breath in her throat. The sound catches the person’s attention and as they turn jerkily toward her she takes a confused step towards him- it’s Peter. The waxing moon illuminates his scarred face but there’s no recognition in his glazed eyes. It can’t possibly be him, but it is him.

Peter’s completely out of it, stumbling around and ready to claw the throat out of anything that gets in his way. Right now that’s Laura and she’s already made the mistake of stepping too close to him. There’s no response to calling his name as she lunges out of the way, just missing a handful of claws to the ribs.

The Peter she grew up with fought with well measured, carefully calculated steps, and made it all look effortless. Her mom used to say he was formidable with the proud smirk Laura had inherited from her. There’s nothing formidable now and nobody’s smirking. 

This Peter is breathing heavily and swinging wildly. He’s stronger than she remembers him being but sloppier and she uses it to her advantage. Her brain is going a mile a minute, clambering out of her sleepy fog to try and figure out what is going on with him and how to stop it. 

She lands wrong on an unsteady rock that was hidden by the leaves on the forest floor when she goes to dodge again and hears as well as feels the crunch in her ankle as it rolls. She lets out a sharp hiss at that and at the claws that do get in a swipe at her shoulder as she goes down. She knows that’s gonna suck to try and stand on right now but she has to get back up. She’ll heal, but not instantaneously. If Peter gets the upper hand, probably not so much.

She throws a rock over his shoulder and the resulting sounds cause him to flail around looking for a threat behind him. The distraction gives her time to try and push the healing and pull herself up to standing against a tree. It’s a tree she recognizes, fingers catching the clawed initials in the bark as she pulls herself up. They’re near home. This is the clearing they used to come to train with Peter when their mother was away, the same clearing her mother came to leave flower crowns and other little tokens before the full moon that were never there when they came back. 

She’s not sure why or how but the hope flares in her once more that something of Peter must be left. He got up and made his way here, practically back home. He’s far from lucid but instinct could only carry him so far. 

If he’s running on instinct, she thinks she might have a better chance of this working now and as he turns to round on her again she bellows out the deep roar of an alpha calling him back to himself. This time, unlike earlier in his room, he starts to look confused and reactive. In that moment of confusion, she lands a blow straight to the face and takes off running. She’d feel worse about breaking his nose but it will heal and besides, she needs to get him out of here and somewhere safe.

She briefly considers taking him back home to the Hale house but then she remembers that it’s exactly as they’d left it, a burned ruin, and not a viable option. If they are where she thinks they are, it’s way too far to get back to Derek with Peter like this, or if she manages to knock him out, while toting an incapacitated Peter unnoticed. People in Beacon Hills can be oblivious to a lot of things, that’s probably not one of them.

There’s an old ranger station closer to the edge of the preserve that hasn’t been used since the newer visitor center had been built in the 90s. She figures it should be decently deserted so she heads that direction instead. She can tell by the ragged breathing and the angry growling that Peter’s still following as she makes her way to her destination, being sure to keep far enough ahead that he can’t get another hit in but not too far that he’ll lose sight or interest in the chase.

She lures Peter close enough to her desired destination that she can see the silhouette of the building in the moonlight but he’s not going down easy and she can’t get him in a people-sized door without taking it out while he’s raging in beast mode. She tries calling his name again, like back in his room, with intent. His vision looks less clouded and he shakes his head like he’s trying to rattle off a bug but he’s still not with it and she’s so fucking tired. 

She slingshots herself around a tree with a looped arm to circle right up behind Peter when he’s close enough, knocking his feet out from under him and landing him hard on his knees. He tries to get right back up and before he can get enough momentum to strike back she’s forced to put her claws in him just to pin him down a bit. 

She lets out a sharp gasp as she feels everything he’s felt over the last six years. Unimaginable pain, anger, helplessness and despair. Feeling so alone in the world like he was the last of the pack. He had to watch them all die around him, the unforgettable sounds and smells, helpless to get any of the people he loved to safety and his brain having it locked on perpetual repeat while he was stuck in a trauma-induced mental prison. He just wants to go home, to wake up from this bad dream, to be with his family again. She wants that, too.

_ Wake up, Peter! _

She thinks she’d give anything to make it better for him, wishes more than anything that she could just stop his hurting. She feels tears streaming down her cheeks and a hot ripping sensation in her chest. Then she feels nothing at all, passed out and bloodied next to her uncle on the forest floor just off the old trail.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

  


Derek wakes up with a start to the unfamiliar scents of the hotel room, face plastered into his Laura-scented jacket over the pillow like a weirdo. He was pulled out of his slumber abruptly and he rolls over with a groan, tries to rub the sleepiness out of his eyelids and freezes.

He shoots straight off the mattress to feel the bed across from him, it’s cold to the touch and reeks of distress. 

Laura’s gone.

Gone…

_ Fuck. _

He’s surprised to find that the keys are still in his pocket, well not entirely surprised, it means she’s left him the Camaro, but being in Beacon Hills, she probably feels more at one with their territory with bare feet and claws than she does on rubber and asphalt, _ or something._ He looks around for a note, knows he won’t find one but hopes nonetheless. All of her stuff is still scattered where she’d left it before she fell asleep earlier. Everything.

He slips into the drivers’ seat with ease, the moon shedding more light ahead of him than the crappy street lamps that light the small road that winds through his hometown. He tries to follow her scent but it’s a lot harder now that she’s an Alpha. When they were kids, playing, Laura won at _everything,_ except for hide and seek. Derek had never seen the point of playing such a game with werewolves when she knew that he could just sniff her out, follow the pack bonds, hear her heartbeat when he got close, but Lo had just looked at him and grinned and said it made her feel more human.

He tracks her as best he can but even with the window rolled down and the chilly breeze of northern California against his skin, he’s only catching traces of her scent. It’s not enough to figure out where she is or which direction she went. If she wanted to hide, he doesn’t have much of a hope of catching up with her like this any time soon. He’d park somewhere and shift himself but knowing his sister they’ll need a getaway car or something once he finds her and it will be all his fault that they don’t have one in their time of need. 

_Damn it, Laura. We’re supposed to stay together._

He follows his nose realizes belatedly that this trail isn’t fresh enough to be recent. Bonds and instincts it is then. He takes another breath and catches that familiar unfamiliar scent of the kid from the diner earlier, growls to himself because he knew something was up with him. Laura should have stared him down, not had a conversation with him. He chases the scent trail to a residential area, not noticing that somehow the scent is much easier to track than most are for him. He sneaks in the unlocked back door following the scent which grows stronger and seems to mix with the scent of Peter, pack and someone else. 

_ Why does it smell like Peter here? _

There are none of the normal industrial scents he’d associate with a hospital employee, like maybe Peter’s nurse or doctor, so Derek wonders how Peter’s scent is so present and intermingled here in this house.

There’s a corkboard hanging in the dining room when Derek goes to pass through it, following the scent, but it’s contents stop him in his tracks. It’s all about his family, the fire, crime scene photos. Some of the clippings appeared to be years old and the photos and some of the paperwork looked official. 

_Who the fuck are these people? _

The corkboard doesn’t smell as strongly of him, more of that other scent so perhaps it’s the work of his father. He’d said at the diner his dad was in law enforcement, hadn’t he? Maybe it’s a cop thing?

He hears the kid upstairs, the only heartbeat here so he knows Laura’s not here but maybe he knows where she is and has her somewhere else. He’s sure as hell going to find out.

He hears an absent vibration and then a distant ringing that gets louder as he goes upstairs and gets closer to his room. Stiles, he thinks the kid said his name was, is awake and his heart rate is picking up. As Derek gets closer, he realizes why when he sees through the cracked open door that Stiles is on the phone.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘missing’ dad?” Stiles says into his phone, “Peter is comatose. He can’t _ be _ missing. What were you even doing there? You were supposed to be heading home after your shift.”

_ There might be other comatose Peters in Beacon Hills. Laura and Peter aren’t both gone. Everything is fine. Laura said everything would be fine. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He knew this was going to be a trap. Fuck. _

Attempts to reassure himself fail miserably as he hears the voice on the other end of the phone reply, “Oh, well actually, I um always stop here on my way home- somebody should! I’m the only visitor he’s had in six years until today and we’re definitely not counting that deer from last week as a visitor.”

“Deer deer or like a dear sweet old lady volunteer? How did I not hear about this deer?!” Stiles sputters indignantly.

“Son, I have to go actually be a sheriff now. I just didn’t want you to worry if I didn’t get home when you expected me to. I’ve got it handled. Goodbye, Stiles,” comes the steady but tired response, clearly used to dealing with the exasperated teen.

Stiles tries to ask more questions but his dad, who is apparently also now the sheriff and not just a deputy, cuts him right off with a succinct, “I said goodbye, Stiles.” 

Derek doesn’t even realize that he’s holding his breath until he hears the line disconnect. He lets out a wounded sound and leans his head against the cool wood of the door to feel less like the world is spinning. 

The door pushes open instead and Stiles jumps up with a whirlwind flail. 

There’s no recovering that entrance but Derek schools his face and glares at Stiles, “Peter’s missing?”

Stiles just nods in confirmation and stares at him in bewilderment, “Dude, what are you doing in my room? How did you even get into my house? Is this a B&E? I don’t have anything worth stealing. Who even breaks into the Sheriff’s house?”

Derek can’t get over how familiar Stiles feels to him. He has serious trust issues but find himself saying, “Laura’s gone, too.”

He can see the wheels turning in Stiles head, pausing in his accusatory ramblings like a switch has flipped and he’s in a whole different mode now. After a beat, he says, “When?”

“Can’t be more than an hour or two? She was gone when I woke up. Her phone and everything were still in the room, I have the car. She never leaves without her phone, even if she leaves without telling me first. I can always reach her.”

Stiles nods like he’s familiar with the concept of always wanting to be able to reach your only remaining family member, like it’s logical to be this worried when you’ve found that you have no way to reach them. No judgment.

“No signs of forced entry?” Stiles rattles off his mental checklist like he’s the sheriff and not just the son of one.

Derek would laugh if this wasn’t deathly serious, “No.”

Stiles makes a thoughtful sound, rhythmically tapping his fingers along his jaw. “Peter was still in his room about eight hours ago so sometime between then and now he’s no longer in his room or in the facility. I’m sure my dad’s going to review the security footage. Laura left, or was taken, in the last two hours.”

He’s not even talking to Derek at this point, he’s talking himself through it Sherlock-style. Without preamble, he blows past Derek, out of the room, and thumps down the stairs. At a loss for what else to do, Derek follows him and finds himself once again in front of the creeper board of the worst day of his life.

“My dad’s been working this case since he was a deputy,” Stiles says by way of explanation. “He’s been trying to build a solid arson case for years. There’s no way what happened was an accident.” 

Stiles goes over the info on the fire board like he’s been puzzling over it just as long as the sheriff has, and maybe he has been. He’s trying to suss out if any of the suspected links or suspected arsonists could have taken Laura and Peter and why they would do it now, six years later. Derek freezes up and is awfully mum when Stiles gets to the latest break on the unknown female suspect.

“My dad spoke to a witness and couldn’t get a name but she was blonde and he said she was wearing this necklace,” Stiles points to the drawing and Derek’s jaw clenches as he looks at it. It’s Kate’s necklace and he knows it. 

Stiles looks at him thoughtfully once more and must put some dots together himself regarding Derek’s recognition of the necklace and likely its owner, probably forming his own opinion on his role in the fire but thankfully doesn’t call him out on it. Derek already feels responsible enough without having it all laid out in front of him like this. He should have known then, but he didn’t. He knows better now and he needs to find Laura and Peter before anything happens to them. If Stiles is going to help with that, without question, he’s not going to say no. Derek thinks if anyone knows anything it’s probably this spastic sheriff’s kid.

“I don’t recognize any of these names,” Derek says of the others Stiles has reviewed. 

“Well, unless there’s been anything else suspicious happening to you guys since you got back to town, these are our only leads.” He pauses and chews nervously on his lip, “We might want to call my dad. Knowing Laura’s gone too could help the investigation; there’s no minimum time limit on missing person reports in the state of California.”

“Wait- how do you know Peter was still in his room 8 hours ago?” Derek asks, suddenly even more suspicious of this timeline walkthrough and wondering if this helpfulness is feigned, some sort of diversion. Is he working with the Argents?

Stiles scent shifts and he’s nervously rubbing his head, just like he had that morning in the diner, like it’s some sort of nervous tic. 

“Oh, it’s Saturday. Or, yesterday was Saturday anyways.” Stiles answers as if that means anything.

Derek just raised his eyebrows and crosses his arms.

“I visit him on Saturdays, usually at the end of visiting hours. My mom used to be on the same unit and I noticed he never had visitors. I just didn’t want him to be alone so I’d stop in after I visited her. And after- after, I just didn’t need to be at the hospital as much but I didn’t want to leave him so I go on Saturdays.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know man, talk about the Mets?”

“The Mets.”

“Yeah, the Mets or the weather or current events. The nurses always have magazines in the waiting room so sometimes that stuff, or books or whatever. Some studies say some comatose patients can hear, don’t judge! I know you guys call and check up on him, but it’s not like he gets updates on you from the nursing staff and if he’s in there I don’t want him to be bored out of his mind.”

Derek’s just looking at him in wonder. This kid, only a few years younger than him, sounding like he’s aged past his years and adopting other people’s abandoned family responsibilities, forging a little pseudo-pack of his own.

“So am I calling my dad or what?”

If the sheriff and Stiles really had been watching over Peter since he and Laura left town, and Stiles didn’t sound like he was lying about that, they’re good people to have in his corner to find him. If there’s even a chance they can help find Laura, he’d be stupid not to take it. He nods in assent and Stiles has his phone out and speed dialed within the span of his next breath even as the unease builds within Derek.

It only rings three times before the sheriff answers with a mildly annoyed, “Stiles, I already told you I’m working on it. Please, let me do my job and don’t abuse the ‘we always answer each others calls’ rule when you know I’m on a case. You’re eighteen kid, you should know better by now.”

“Dad, no, just listen. Laura Hale is missing.” Stiles rushes out before his dad can hang up.

“Excuse me?” is the sharp response.

Stiles looks to Derek and he nods again, “Derek Hale is here at the house. I ran into him and Laura at the diner yesterday and I guess he thought maybe she stopped by here but I haven’t seen her since the diner. No signs of forced entry, left her money, phone, keys, and car about two to three hours ago at this point.”

“Get him down to the station, I’m gonna need a statement and the address of where they’re staying. No chance she took her Uncle out for a nostalgic evening stroll under the stars in his wheelchair and just forgot to tell anybody or leave a note?”

“Without her shoes? Unlikely.”

Derek can hear the sheriff’s heavy sigh in response before he says, “I gotta get back to it, kiddo. Call me if you or Derek hear from Laura, the second you hear anything. Got it?”

“Yeah, dad. Got it.”

It’s Stiles that hangs up first this time and he’s looking at Derek with a certain fiery quality to his eyes, determination is kinda scary on him actually. “We’re gonna find them. You’re not alone here.” Stiles says solemnly and Derek gets the distinct impression that’s probably something both Stilinskis have said to his uncle over the years before heading home to their creepy murder board.

* * *

There’s a search party being sent into the preserve, Derek’s not sure _ why _ exactly but it seems like a solid plan. He wants to be there himself but Stiles, that’s definitely the kid’s name since that’s what his dad had called him, made a good point by saying that _ if _ someone took Peter and Laura, walking around the preserve would just make it incredibly convenient to snatch a Derek doll and complete their Hale collection. 

Despite the urge to rush out and find his pack, Derek found he was pretty content in Stiles’ company and the kid’s logic was seemingly sound.

The sheriff seemed reluctant about letting Derek stay in the house with Stiles unsupervised, which was odd, but he relented when Stiles pointed out the doll theory, it was almost eerie how alike they were in a lot of respects. 

He sits quietly, mostly… while Stiles does whatever it is he’s been doing that involves a lot of talking, hand movements, nervous twitches, and the scent of something warm and heady as he reviews the board over and over again as if doing so will reveal some key thing he’s missing to crack it. Derek just wants to claw it to bits, but he doesn’t… just tries to avoid looking at it for the most part. He knows what the board is missing and hopes for all that he’s worth that she’s not here, not involved in this, not taking the rest of his family away from him.

“Dude, you should get some sleep…” 

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek says, though it comes out a little less growly than he expects. 

“Fine, fine, I get it.” 

Because Laura would kill him if he didn’t, Derek mutters a quiet, “Thanks… for this, all of this.” 

“Yeah man, no problem… Stilinski’s are on the case, you’re in good hands,” Stiles promises, and surprisingly enough it does actually reassure him to hear it. 

* * *

On his way out to the preserve for the search, the Sheriff decides to take a little pitstop. The door is answered surprisingly quickly for this hour of the morning and the man who answers is already dressed and alert. Interesting.

“Sheriff, everything ok?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me that, Mr. Argent,” he says shoulders squared and getting a defiant read off the man in front of him. He’s not easily intimidated.

“Far as I know, yeah. I was just finishing an east coast conference call for work, can I offer you some coffee? I was just about to go refill before my next call.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He pauses deliberately and cocks his head briefly to the side like he’s just had a thought but it’s a calculated move and he knows Chris can read it as such when he says, “You know, it’s just the darndest thing, your family left town right after the Hale fire and suddenly you are back in town and the only remaining survivor of the family goes missing as more details emerge.”

“Are you implying something, Sheriff? My family had nothing to do with that.” Chris says but he thinks he sees a flicker of doubt there. 

Chris may not have had anything to do with it, sure, but his sister matches the description of the unknown woman that the chemistry teacher had refused to name. She was also a substitute teacher at the time, covering maternity leave for one of Derek Hale’s teachers, so there’s a link there. Tentative, but still a link. He needs more than that for a sound prosecution.

The Sheriff just lifts an eyebrow and says, “Sorry, can’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation. You might want to consider not perjuring yourself in front of the jury when it gets to that point, and it will because I am going to solve this case.” 

He means to solve both the abductions and the fire, but if Chris really has nothing to do with this then he doesn’t know about the abductions yet, aside from Peter’s implied abduction, and he intends to keep it that way. He runs a tight ship and leaks never come from his team. 

He gives a stiff wave goodbye like he’d really rather not but he is an elected official so he does have to maintain some level of courtesy even when dealing with a family that possibly murdered eleven men, women, and children in his town. He doesn’t hear Chris close the door before he gets back into the squad car, but he does see him watching him from the stoop in the rearview mirror as he pulls away.

* * *

Derek leans back on the bed, knowing there won’t be sleep in his near future, but the scent of pack is comforting, even if it’s still a little strange and unfamiliar while mixed with the notes that are purely Stiles and Sheriff. 

Stiles is dozing off, leaned against his shoulder, _ drooling on him_. If he wasn’t already inadvertently pack, Derek would threaten bodily harm for such a gesture but it’s not so bad, he looks… peaceful almost. It’s nearing dawn and not a word has been reported back to them in over three hours and saying he’s antsy, paranoid, and a multitude of other things is a gross understatement. 

He’s about to just _ break _ when he starts to feel unmoored, sinking deep, drowning…

Derek gasps, his eyes flashing blue, claws out, a low and mournful howl from his wolf escapes his lungs as something hot, violent rips through him like a power surge, an explosion of lightning splitting through his veins and he smells blood. 

It takes more than a few beats for him to realize that Stiles is not only awake, but screaming at him, bleeding from his claws, and… fuck, the scent of panic overwhelms his nose to the point that he nearly throws up from it. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Stiles screams, “What the actual fuck, Derek?” 

He releases Stiles’ arm like it was hurting _ him _ and wants nothing more than to crawl up into a ball and beg for his Alpha, but since he’s a semi-functioning young adult, he starts to apologize instead. But what actually comes out is, “Something happened to Laura… I-I can’t _ feel _ her anymore.” 

“While I understand how _ painful _ that must be for you asshole, I think we have bigger issues here!” Stiles squawks, pointing down to where there is a half moon of puncture wounds on his wrist and back up to Derek’s glowing eyes. 

“You’re- what are you even?” Stiles asks, surprisingly not running away like Derek expected. 

“Sorry I-I shouldn’t have- I don’t know what happened but I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says finally, crowding him toward the bathroom that smells faintly of lemon and soap and _ Stiles_. He guides Stiles’ hand under warm water until most of the blood is washed away.

“Yeah yeah, just tell me what the fuck is going on, Derek. You were fine one minute and the next I’ve got giant ass claws in my arm. Not cool, dude.” 

“I need to get to Laura, are you coming with me or not?” he growls out, a little too much emphasis though because he can feel his wolf climbing to the surface and Stiles just blinks at him. 

“So… red eyes huh? That’s a thing now?” Stiles asks, and it makes Derek’s steps toward the door falter a little.

He swallows hard, “Red? Not blue or green?” 

“No dude, red like a traffic light. You don’t have heat vision or anything do you? Because I’d prefer not to be incinerated and you have a tendency to glare so…” 

“C’mon, we’re wasting time.” 

“No, Stiles. I don’t have laser heat vision. You’re totally safe with me and my glare of doom. Now let’s go for a little drive where absolutely nothing will go wrong,” he snarks back, but grabs his keys and follows Derek out the door all the same.

He’s not remotely reassured by the fact that he’s now an alpha, but he can still feel his bond with Laura and it feels somehow stronger now. She’s still alive, that’s all that matters. He didn’t lose her like he lost his mom, his family. He still has a pack. He just has to find her. He has to find her _ and _ Peter, but he’s got Stiles to help him now and he is not alone. He doesn’t have time to spare to think about the fact that he's got an electrifying, new pack bond with Stiles as they’re throwing themselves into a ratty old jeep.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Look, I’m not saying I don’t understand how important this is dude, I get it, she’s your sister, your family, I don’t take that lightly but if I don’t get some coffee in me there’s a good chance neither of us is going to make it wherever you’re wanting to go, in one piece. I’m not asking for Starbucks, just let me drive through McDonald's or something there’s like _ nobody _ there,” he says, grouching a bit as Derek snarled at him when he mentioned getting coffee. It wasn’t for the taste for fucks sake, he needed something to keep him awake. 

He makes it through the drive-thru in one piece and uses one hand to add some much needed sugar to the large black coffee between his legs, the other steadily on the wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. 

The CB roars to life and Derek looks genuinely spooked, which means Stiles has half a second of pure satisfaction to take that look in before he hears Tara’s voice crackle through the speakers.

“This is Deputy Graeme, update on that 10-65, subjects located, southeast entrance to the preserve near the old ranger station. Requesting BLS assist for transport times two, 10-53. Over.”

The dispatcher responds, “10-4 Deputy Graeme. I’ll get that transport en route. Repeat, that is BLS transport times two?”

Tara’s voice comes back over the radio, “10-4, condition appears stable. I’m no medic but the EMTs can get them there sooner than we can get the paramedic team from the other side of the county, they’re on another call. Over.”

Stiles pulls a sharp u-turn in the opposite direction they were headed and before Derek can explain he bites out his translation between scalding hot coffee slurps, “They found two missing people in the preserve. They were found down- down, not dead ok so just breath- and they’re getting an ambulance ride to the closest hospital. That’s this way.”

Derek looks like he wants to argue, torn by wanting to get to his pack members and wanting to be where they’ll need him at the same time. A tense silence settles over them and is broken by Stiles's phone vibrating on the seat between them not two minutes later.

Derek hears him curse quietly, dangerously tuck his coffee back between his knees, and pick it up by the third ring.

“Hey, pops. What’s the word?”

“Stiles… why does it sound like you’re not in your bedroom right now?” the sheriff asked, hearing the distinctive sounds of wind rushing past the window of his kid’s jeep. 

“Coffee run?” Stiles says, shooting for innocence. 

“Coffee huh… so I take that to mean you’re nowhere near Beacon Hills Preserve, right?” he asked, biting back the urge to sigh. His kid was one of a kind but he was also a one of a kind pain in the ass most days. 

“Totally the opposite direction, in fact. Isn’t that right, Derek?”

At Derek’s silence, Stiles elbows him hard in the ribs. He sputters and says loud enough to be heard by the phone, “Uh, yes. We are driving in the opposite direction of the preserve. Coffee.”

“You are the actual worst at this,” Stiles hisses, curving his phone tightly against his chest to drown out the sound and Derek just shrugs at him. 

“Good, good,” John starts to say.

The radio crackles to life in the background when the dispatcher says, “10-49 Units en route to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. Over.” Stiles belatedly realizes he should have turned down the radio before answering the phone in the first place. 

“-wait, the _ opposite _ direction?” his dad asks, then lets out a low groan. “You’ve turned the cb into a police scanner again haven’t you?” 

“You said to stay away from the preserve, not the hospital. Love you, bye dad!” He says quickly, hanging up before his dad can get a word in edgewise. 

* * *

They’ll be in the parking garage in just a few more minutes and at this hour parking should be a breeze. They can’t loiter in the ambulance bay but Stiles is not above creating a distraction while Derek slips into the ER if the need arises. He’s spent this long in a one-sided friendship with Peter, not wanting him to be alone, and now his family is here and trying to get to him. Trying to get to Laura too, obviously, but Stiles is going to do whatever he can to expedite that process.

They get to BHM and parking is, for once, a quick process. Derek is only halfway to the stairs that lead out of the garage so he can get in the building to see his pack when he smells the scent of strange Alpha in his territory. He’s immediately on edge and, as if Stiles can somehow sense it too, he comes right up to Derek’s side and looks around for any sign of danger. 

Instinctively, he pushes Stiles out of the way but doesn’t know why.

Stiles keeps trying to step up closer, Derek knows he has no idea what they’re up against, considering he himself isn’t entirely sure either. 

The steps draw closer, he can hear the footfalls shortening as the incline of the parking garage grows higher.

“Well now, _ you’re _not the Alpha I was expecting,” says someone with a heavy accent.

“Where’s Laura?” Derek growls, though there’s some sort of niggle of familiarity in the back of his mind as the man speaks further. 

“Now, now, Derek. Don’t you want to introduce me to your little… _ friend_.” 

“I can speak for myself thanks, and you first, Asshole. What are you doing here and where’s Laura?” 

Derek does everything he can to hold back the sigh. Stiles is going to get himself killed because he doesn’t know when to shut up. 

There’s a quirk to the man’s lips that takes him back a few years and then Derek remembers just why the man felt so familiar. His eyes flash Alpha red and the claws come out but Deucalion just chuckles softly at him.

“Put the wolf away boy, even blind we both know I could take you. Besides, I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Laura. I’m actually curious, which I don’t get often. However, I did come here for a reason. I needed to speak to the Hale Alpha and here you are.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Stiles says, not even bothering to whisper, not that it would do him any good.

“A wise choice, _ emissary_.” 

Derek tries not to let the word shake him, at least he schools his features in a way that shouldn’t give away the surprise he feels. Stiles… emissary… suddenly it makes sense. The strong bond that blew out even brighter the moment he felt his wolf shifting, changing into the Alpha. 

The word must register some sort of recognition with Stiles though because the stupid boy moves even closer to the scary Alpha werewolf, half stepping in front of Derek to get to him.

“Emissary, huh? Well, I’ve got a message for you, Douchebag; get the fuck out of Beacon Hills.” 

Still, Deucalion doesn’t make a move forward. “Oh, he's a feisty one, Derek. You’ll have to learn to control that mouth, but I’m sure you’ll manage… one way or another.”

“Eww gross, what are you like eighty?” Stiles says, and Derek resigns himself to the fact that this kid is going to be the death of him, probably literally. 

“What do you want Deucalion? Spit it out or kill me, I’m not standing here all day. My pack needs me,” Derek answers, noting the slight bit of surprise in the blind man’s smile as the wolf’s name rolled off his tongue. 

“We brought you back for a reason. The territory was left vulnerable, either you come back and take care of it or pass it off to someone else who can, either way we must restore the balance,” he says like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just dragged them 3,000 miles across the country for a pissing match over pack management. 

“If it weren’t for Satomi and Silva your territory would have already fallen. You have strong neighbors to the west and south but make no mistake, Hale; that won’t be enough in the near future,” he says, tapping his cane to the cement floor. “There’s what, you and your sister and your vegetative uncle left… hardly what I’d call a pack, Derek.” 

“Yeah, well maybe if you’d done anything to help _ before _ or even after the psycho hunter trapped and murdered an entire house full of people, practically the entire pack, we’d be having a different discussion, asshole. Where’s the balance there, huh?” Stiles stepped out in front of Derek again, this time moving closer to Deucalion before Derek’s hand snapped out, grabbed at his wrist and pulled him back.

“Message received, we’re done here,” Derek answers, as if that’s that, hoping it is but somehow knowing Deucalion would never allow him to get in the last word.

“One last thing, Derek?” Deucalian says, continuing to smirk at Stiles with curious interest that has Derek gritting his teeth.

“What,” he growls, all of his emotions standing precariously on edge. 

“You have 48 hours to reestablish the pack presence in Beacon Hills.” 

“Or what?” Stiles asks sharply as Derek moves to pull them away, because apparently Derek doesn’t need to know, or he already does and just isn’t sharing with the class.

“My mistake, I thought that was clear, boy. _ Or else_,” Deucalion says with a wide grin and a flash of red that seeps out around the black of his shades. 

* * *

They finally make it inside to find Stiles’ dad who is not at all surprised to see Stiles ambulance chasing after crime scenes. If anything, he looks surprised that they weren’t there before him. Before he can go full-blown exasperated dad on him, he realizes Stiles is still with Derek Hale which is great because he can positively ID Laura and Peter as their family member and consent to any necessary treatment.

“Stiles, you go sit over there,” He says pointing to an uncomfortable looking plastic chair across from the nurses' station. “Derek, come on this way with me son. They’re stable but unconscious. Any idea why or how they would’ve been out in the preserve tonight?”

They’re resting comfortably on adjacent gurneys in the same triage bay, so at least they’re together and whole. Neither Derek nor the sheriff mentions that Peter is visibly improved from when they last saw him. Derek also doesn’t mention that he recognizes the Sheriff’s scent, both from Peter’s hospital room as well as from his own home. That would be a weird thing to mention. 

“No, sir,” Derek says, and he honestly doesn’t know. 

The sheriff claps a warm hand down on his shoulder in reassurance, “They’re back now. Give the station a call when they wake up? I’ll have a deputy stationed at the ER entrance to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity and the hospital security has been alerted as well.”

He heads back out towards where Stiles is presumably waiting. Derek holds Laura’s hand and watches over them both for a while, reassured that they’re both okay and alive. He doesn’t like that they’re still unconscious but he doesn’t smell any wolfsbane or anything that could be poisoning them. 

“You should be healing, why aren’t you?” Derek asks Laura.

Stiles, who’d appeared at the edge of their curtained-off section of the room raises an eyebrow. “So that’s a thing now, too?”

He looks at Peter, noticing the obvious changes immediately. He goes right up to Peter’s bedside like an old friend, which he kind of is, and gently holds his chin in his hands turning his face from side to side.

“But why now? If you guys can heal, why hasn’t he until now? Why were they out in the preserve?” Stiles wonders aloud, not really asking Derek so much as thinking it out audibly in the way that he does. He gives Peter’s hand a light squeeze, “Only one way to find out!”

He turns on his heel, keys in hand and heading back towards the parking garage. Derek is torn between staying with his family to protect them while they can’t protect themselves and going to protect Stiles from doing something stupid when there’s clearly a threat in the area. He thinks he’s making the choice Laura would make, or at least that’s what he tells himself when he finally catches up with Stiles in the garage. 

* * *

When they pull up to the old parking lot near the right entrance to the preserve, Stiles notices Scott’s mom’s car a bit down the road behind them and a missed call from Scott. They are here to go to look at the scene in the preserve for clues as to why Laura would still be unconscious or what brought them out there, Scott can’t make it as far into the unkempt trailhead as far as he thinks they’ll need to go and he’s also not sure he wants to have to explain all of this to him. 

Stiles makes the executive decision to ignore, for now at least, his other interpersonal relationship issues that are sure to result from ignoring your best friend. He and Derek head off with Derek leading the way like he’s following some sort of trail that Stiles can’t see and it definitely goes off the beaten path. 

They’re actually pretty deep into the woods when the cracking of a branch breaks Derek’s concentration and he turns around in the direction they’d come from. Stiles had been so busy trying to keep up with the pace and the brush that he hadn’t noticed Scott had tried to catch up with them too. 

Hiking has never been his thing, what with exertion and pollen and spores all being triggers for his asthma and all. Stiles thought he would’ve just kept driving when he realized he’d missed him. He didn’t think for a second that Scott was going to try and catch up to them in the actual wilderness of the preserve and yet here he is trying to catch his breath within yards of them.

“Hey, man,” Scott calls out to them sounding winded, “My mom got called into work early because they found two people in the preserve. I just dropped her off and saw you headed this way. We shouldn’t be out here.” 

As if Stiles has ever waited for permission to go see something he wants to see.

Derek hears the rasp in Scott's breathing and says, “You’re right, you shouldn’t be out here. You should go back.”

Stiles is pretty sure Derek Hale has never been _ more _ right about something.

Sure, he gets it. Scott was being a good bro in trying to warn him that the preserve could be unsafe right now, which he honestly appreciates. He’s legitimately touched by the concern but it’s overshadowed by his growing panic for Scott who is not sounding like he’s catching his breath, having stopped to rest doing not a thing for him. If anything, he sounds as if it’s getting worse.

It’s peak week in September, which is basically the worst time ever to be on an outdoor walk, they’re in the middle of the woods with very little option if it came to a full-blown attack, and when you have asthma you typically know better than this shit. But a warm flutter tightens his chest when he watches the way Scott tries to stand up taller as if he’s determined not to leave Stiles with the metaphorical big bad wolf; which is hilarious given that he doesn’t know the werewolf aspect of it all. 

He’s pretty sure it’s _ werewolf _ anyway, out of every mythical or hypothetically mythical creature he’s ever heard about, werewolf makes the most sense. Derek hasn’t actually clarified that point but it’s Stiles’ working hypothesis based on his observations thus far. Either way, definitely outside of Scott’s comfort zone.

Barely three minutes into their now much slower paced walk, Scott is incapacitated in the middle of the fucking woods, because of course he is. Stiles has always been a little shit and pretty damn annoying when he wanted to but nothing, _ nothing _ compared to Scott’s stubbornness. This is a much bigger deal than Jackson douchey douche Whittemore scoffing at Scott’s desire to try out for the lacrosse team yet again in his senior year. God forbid that anyone, especially someone who cares about him and doesn’t actually want him to die in the middle of the goddamn preserve, tell him what his limits are. 

The rasp he had when he first caught up to them has transitioned into full on wheezing that even Stiles can hear with his very human ears. Scott is half bent over leaning on a tree with Stiles resting a hand between his shoulder blades, trying to even his breathing. But unsurprisingly the vital part of living that Scott has always struggled with isn’t getting any easier with all the irritants in the air. Stiles pats at Scott’s pockets desperately but there’s no familiar inhaler shape to be felt. 

Stiles usually keeps a spare inhaler on him, in his backpack at school, when he knows he’s going to be with Scott. There might even be one in the jeep, but there’s no way for them to get to it now, not in time at least. He’s pretty sure from the terrifying pitch of those wheezes that Scott won’t make it that long anyway. This was not how this was supposed to go.

“Dude, c’mon… I- damn it Scott… we told you to go back!” Stiles says, he’s irrationally angry, maybe not completely irrational, but his best friend is probably about to die. Maybe he shouldn’t be screaming at the idiot because that would be an even shitter last few moments for Scott than it would be a lifelong scarring experience for Stiles.

“Derek… do something!” Stiles says frantically, looking back at the guy who is just glaring at him in return. 

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? I can’t breathe for him, Stiles.” 

“Change him, make a wolf print, bite him, whatever the hell it is we have to do, Derek. He’s my best friend, my brother, I can’t-” Panic begins to claw at Stiles’ chest, the slashing feeling grows more wild as he watches his best friend who had been standing on his own two feet, slump against the tree and slide to the ground.

Derek offers him back some sort of bitch face but Stiles is beyond caring. “Look, that psycho blind guy said you needed to make a pack, Scott is- he’s _ dying _ Derek, I can’t- you can save him, I know you can.” 

“Stiles I’ve never bitten anyone before. Hell, I’ve only been an Alpha for like two hours. I’ve never even _ seen _ it done before, I was born this way!” 

“Well it’s give it a try time or just let him die, Derek, and that’s just not a fucking option, okay? It’s just not!” 

Scott’s wheezing is practically a third person in their conversation at this point, louder than either of them considering Stiles is _ hissing _ his whispered words and Derek is following his lead and communicating mostly with eyebrow. 

“If I mess it up, he dies. If I don’t he could still die, you get that right? And it wouldn’t be asthma that killed him, it would be me. I would be responsible for that,” Derek says back, feeling as if there’s a semi-sitting on his chest as the rush of Stiles’ negative emotions nearly make him sick to his stomach. 

“We don’t have a lot of options Derek. Would you rather do nothing, knowing he’s going to die… or would you at least want to _ try _ to save him?” 

Derek must know he’s right, that if they continue to waste time arguing, Scott is going to die. 

“Even if there’s just a 1% chance it will save him, _ do it_. Because one percent… it’s better than nothing, Derek.” 

“Scott… I’m going to give you the bite. It’s going to hurt… a lot. But you’ll heal, you’ll heal and you’ll be a werewolf like me…” 

There’s not really a response, no sign of life from Scott beyond the wheeze that is starting to slow as if he can’t even get enough air to do that. 

“It’s fine, I- I’m practically his second parent at this point, just fucking bite him already, Derek. I consent for him, he doesn’t want to die!” 

And then Derek shifts, tilt’s Scott’s neck to the side and bites down. 

Stiles freaks the fuck out as soon as Scott’s eyes shoot open wide and he lets out a scream, god… that sound is going to stick with him for a while, he just knows it. If he can scream, that means he’s getting air though. Right?

Derek pulls away, blood dripping onto his lip and wipes at his mouth, before shifting back. 

“So… did it work, is he a werewolf now?” Stiles asks, nervously fidgeting with any part of Scott he can get his hands on, too terrified to move away, not that he’s sure his presence has anything to do with it but Scott still feels warm to the touch and his pulse is still there.

“I don’t know. I won’t know until he wakes up or… doesn’t.” 

“Great… that’s just great, more waiting to see if my best friend dies in my arms, just what I wanted.” 

Stiles glances up to Derek and sees this closed off expression and then he realizes what a giant fucking jerk he’s been, “Sorry man… you didn’t ask for this and you’ve done everything you could to save him. If he- no he’s going to make it I can’t even think about it that way,” Stiles says, shaking his head, his voice trembling a bit as he looks down at a passed out, but breathing Scott, “but thanks.” 

Ten minutes pass in the blink of an eye. Scott’s breathing has evened out but he feels like he’s burning up. They can’t stay here in the middle of the preserve like this.

* * *

They’ve found nothing so far and this trip has turned into an unexpected shit show. 

So basically every _ other _ day of Derek’s life in Beacon Hills. 

There were no clues and barely even a trace of their scent at the scene where Laura and Peter were found. Every scrap of information he’s gathered along the unclear path they’d been weaving was only leaving him more confused than when he started. There were a few claw marks on some passing trees, broken branches, and other signs of a fight; but Derek only caught traces of Peter and Laura and no one else along that path, not even at its deepest points. 

They’ve got nothing.

“Now that we’re none the wiser as to what had them this deep into the woods, how Peter got out of the Long Term Care Unit in the first place, or why Laura lost her Alphaness, I vote we head back. The trail has gone cold, if it was ever hot in the first place, and clearly there’s nothing to gain here,” Stiles says, sounding almost dejected. He’d clearly been hoping this would have been a more productive outing than the surprise of Scott nearly dying and the addition of a beta to Derek’s pack.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees sullenly. This is not how he expected this outing, this day, or this trip in general to go. “I should be there when they wake up.”

Derek probably doesn’t need the help, but Stiles throws one of Scott’s arms around his shoulder as Derek gets the other side and they start the trek back to the cars. Derek puts Scott in Stiles's back seat and fishes his car keys out of his hoodie pocket. With one last nod to Stiles he gets behind the wheel and heads back to the hospital, hoping to take some comfort in being surrounded by what little pack he has left. 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Derek returns Melissa’s keys to her after tracking her down at the nurses' station, explains it away saying he saw them fall out of Scott’s pocket when he was getting into the passenger side of Stiles jeep. It’s the best excuse he can come up with and figures it would draw fewer questions than turning them in to security.

Melissa looks beyond tired and just sighs, “That boy needs to work on his attentiveness. He knows we don’t have a spare.” 

Before Derek can think of something to say back to that, he hears Laura’s heart monitor start beeping rapidly, in addition to actually hearing her heart pounding. Melissa’s out of her seat and through the curtain almost as fast as he is and he half wonders if she’s something other than human. She smells human though and Scott does too, well he _ did_.

Laura’s gasping in bed and trying to take off the EKG leads and sit up, Melissa and Derek on either side of her.

“Peter? Where’s Peter?” She asks frantically. 

She’s not even hearing what Melissa’s saying, trying to calm her down, but Derek steps out of the way so she sees Peter resting in the next gurney. He helps her catch her breath and centers her in the way she usually does for him after his nightmares. When she’s settled enough for Melissa’s liking and her vitals look stable again, Melissa goes to let the posted Deputy know she’s awake and to alert the sheriff.

Once she leaves, Laura zeros in on him. “You smell like an alpha, baby brother.”

“Lo… what happened? I felt it. I thought the worst when Stiles said my eyes were red but then I could feel you still, but differently. What happened?”

She quirks an eyebrow at the mention of Stiles, who last she checked was a loud kid in the diner that Derek refused to even acknowledge. Now that he’s mentioned him though she feels a shiny new pack bond with the same familiar feel that she associates with this kid. And that’s not the only one. 

She can distinctly feel a strong bond again with Peter, almost like before the fire, but there’s two others she can’t place. It’s the strangest feeling after the two of them being alone for so long but it’s a comforting feeling at the same time. Strength in numbers, or something like that.

She looks at Peter who looks leagues better than he had in his room yesterday and then back to Derek, brows furrowed, “I found him. He called for me and I found him. I was trying to get him somewhere safe until you caught up with me- I knew you would because you always do -but then I just… I don’t know, Der. I just had to fix it. He was wild, he was hurting. I did what I had to do to stop it. That’s all I remember.”

“You didn’t hurt him, Lo.” Derek says gently. “You’re not the one responsible for the fire.”

“No, I’m not.” She agrees. “But I was his alpha and I left him here, packless and defenseless and that’s on me. He was _ suffering_, Der. I did that. That’s on me.”

Derek feels her horror and the deep, deep sadness radiating up their bond even as she clenches his hand in hers. “If he was, we had no way to know. We called and checked on him. He had visitors- Stiles and the sheriff were regulars. Actually, they kind of became pack as a result. They seem to have adopted Peter and when you did whatever you did, you brought him back to us and them with him.”

She looks shocked that he’d had regular visitors and not a single nurse had mentioned that in all of their calls, maybe they assumed they knew or that they were friends of the family. There’s something to the way Derek says Stiles name that she’s definitely going to come back to but for now there are other topics of more urgency.

“How is Peter? He looks better. He looks like he’s sleeping, but is he… is he ok? Is he hurt?”

Derek steps over to his uncle’s bedside and places a hand on his, tries to drain his pain but finds there’s nothing there to pull. “No pain and I can actually feel him now, much stronger than before. I don’t know what you did but it’s a definite improvement, for Peter at least. I don’t think I’m alpha material.”

Laura pulls him back over to her, wrapping him in one of her notorious hugs, “You’re gonna be a great alpha, DerBear.”

“Deucalion doesn’t seem to think so,” Stiles says, appearing at the edge of the curtain as he had earlier that morning.

Laura starts at the mention of the name as well as at Stiles's sudden presence, she’s going to need some time to adjust to having beta-level senses again.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” Laura rasps at the same time Derek says, “Stiles, where’s Scott? He shouldn’t be alone right now. I told his mom he was with you and she’s going to be back here any minute.”

Stiles grimaces and shrugs, “I heard the deputy call my dad over the radio that Laura was awake. I tucked him in at my house with a bottle of gatorade and said I’d be back soon and not to go anywhere. He’s a good bro and he’ll stick around, I’m his ride home. Mama McCall doesn’t need to know that middle part but she knows me well enough to know the rest of that is true to form.”

Derek drags a hand down his face slowly and tries to take a deep breath and count to three before responding. Laura’s extremely intrigued by their interactions and sudden familiarity.

“Who the fuck is Scott? When did this happen,” she asks gesturing between the two of them, “and what the hell else did I miss? Did you say you spoke to Deucalion?” 

“In the flesh,” Stiles says, expertly ignoring the bulk of her questions. He knew those years of experience trying to get things around his dad would come in handy eventually. “He had a homecoming message for the Hales and decided to grace us with his presence in the parking garage earlier.”

“Which was?” Laura inquires, not sure she really wants the answer. She remembers her mom dealing with him and the bloody aftermath at the mill when he was blinded and everything went south. There’s a lot of bad blood and if he’s here in Beacon Hills, it’s unlikely to be in their favor.

“Restore the balance. Step up, build the pack, defend Beacon Hills.” Stiles rattles off.

“Well,” Laura says looking to Peter and then up to Derek and feeling at her new bond with Stiles that somehow already feels familiar, “it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea to build the pack back up. It was a mistake to keep it just the two of us and I’m sorry I isolated you like that, you and Peter both.”

“He gave us 48 hours,” Stiles adds. 

“What the fuck kind of timeline is that anyways?” Laura says angrily, not even touching the fact that Stiles had said ‘us’ like he’d already accepted they were all in this shit together. “Pack building requires careful planning, not impulses. There’s a vetting process for those who want to become bitten wolves. It’s different from being born this way. We haven’t even lived here for six years and he expects you to build a pack practically overnight? With who- the random townsfolk?”

“Actually… I kind of had to give someone the bite already.” Derek admits.

She looks sharply to Stiles but he still smells human and he’s adamantly shaking his head no.

Stiles points to himself and proclaims, “Human. And apparently also emissary, but definitely human,”

It’s Laura’s turn to facepalm in frustration, “Jesus, Derek, who the fuck did you bite?”

Stiles recaps the story for her, in greatly animated detail, looking at Derek with stars in his eyes. Derek’s ears turn red and she knows right then why Derek did it. 

“Only you, DerBear,” She says, sounding half annoyed and half amused. 

Stiles grins widely. He has a new nickname for Derek now, it’s the best and it’s going to stick no matter what Derek’s murderbrows say. DerBear forever.

“Shut up, Lo.” 

“Go see your new pup, then. I’m good here. I’ll see what I’ve gotta do to get discharged and I’ll stay here with Peter. I can’t leave him like this. We can’t leave him again, Derek.” The amusement is out of her voice now and the sadness of before is seeping back in.

Derek clasps her hand briefly in support before moving towards Stiles. “We’re not leaving him. Call me if you need anything.”

Before they can leave a new voice approaches them and Laura feels the recognition click into place for that last new bond. She recognizes that scent as a presence in Peter’s room, just as Derek must have and her Hale brows shoot up in surprise.

The sheriff places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “Son. I’m fairly certain that I told you to go home and stay home. Hours ago, in fact. This is an ongoing investigation. You can’t be here.”

Stiles puts his hands up in surrender, “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. I just came to give Derek a ride considering I’m the one who drove him here in the first place.”

Stiles grabs Derek by the cuff of his jacket and starts pulling him towards the exit, leaving his father with a still unconscious Peter and a rather confused Laura who realizes he’s here to take her statement a few minutes too late. She hadn’t even thought to ask Stiles and Derek what they’d already discussed or not discussed with the man. It would be helpful if their timelines and stories all matched up.

Laura is not copping to an abduction rap or explaining how a catatonic patient walked to the woods by himself so she decides to play the amnesia card, no idea what happened just that she went to sleep in her hotel bed and woke up in a hospital bed next to Peter. If it works in the soaps and telenovellas, she figures she’s got a fair chance of it working for her too.

The sheriff doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he pats her shoulder reassuringly and says, “If you remember anything else, you give me a call. Yeah? And if anybody gets near you, you or Peter, and you even get a hint of a bad gut feeling, you give me a call. Not Stiles, me. We clear on that?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Laura says and almost feels bad lying to him since he’s technically pack now. Dude’s got a backbone and she half thinks he would have made an amazing alpha if he’d been born a wolf like them.

“I should’ve been Derek’s first call when he realized you were missing, not Stiles. You kids always think you can solve stuff on your own, just don’t with this. Okay? If you two were taken out there by an unknown suspect for unknown reasons, it is not the time to be trying to solve a Scooby Doo mystery. This is real life and it’s not worth the risk. I don’t need to tell you there are bad people in this world, I know you already know that. So just call me.” He was looking at Laura when he started that mini monologue but he finishes it looking almost sadly at Peter. 

Laura can feel him getting stronger, his skin getting more clear with a healthier coloring to it. She wonders if the sheriff notices too, if he can feel it as acutely as they can. 

He leaves his card with her heads out, pausing to look back to Peter like he’d wanted to say goodbye or to say something to him like he was apparently used to doing, but decides not to and carries on his way. 

She hits the call bell and when Melissa comes back in, she’s got her discharge paperwork in hand and a spare pair of flip flops from her car. Melissa McCall is an angel, a sweet and thoughtful angel. She could use some less bloody clothes that aren’t a hospital gown but that will have to wait. For now, she pulls up a chair next to Peter’s bed and grabs his hand between both of hers. For the briefest second she thinks she feels the lightest squeeze in return.

* * *

Hours later, Laura is still at his bedside, the phantom squeeze of his hand still sending a bit of warmth through her own. She’s not sure that it actually happened anymore but it’s clear that he’s getting better, even if he never wakes up, she can feel that he’s at peace, he’s not the burnt out husk of pain he’d been before she gave her power to him. She idly wonders if he’ll wake up at all, but while she can’t do anything about that, Laura thinks about everything Stiles and Derek talked about while they were there. 

She remembers Alpha classes, and while her mom acted like she hated when Laura called them that, she could see the hint of a smile on her lips anyway. There had been one lesson early on, back before she took any of it very seriously, when her mom mentioned the ways a spark could be taken, lost, or passed on, but something like this- or at least what she thinks has happened here- hadn’t been seen in generations. Which sure, she imagines nobody really wants to give up the power that comes with being an Alpha, not only for themselves, but it would destabilize the whole pack in a split second; because everything she knows, everything her mom knew, pointed toward that being the end of the Alpha spark. It didn’t pass go, it didn’t collect $200 or end up in your baby brother’s big green eyes. Once freely given, once sacrificed, it was gone and your pack all feels that loss. 

Yet _ somehow_, Derek was an Alpha. 

“You should get some sleep, or if not sleep then coffee at least,” the sheriff says, pulling her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even noticed him coming in again, Laura shakes her head. She used to be better at this. 

“I can’t leave him- not again,” she says, squeezing gently at Peter’s unresponsive hand. 

“You’re not leaving, Laura… you’re getting some rest or coffee. I’m sure he’d understand that. He’s family right?” the sheriff says, waiting until he gets a small nod from her in response. “Well, family would want you to take care of yourself. You’re not going to be able to help him when he does wake up if you spend the next however long that is, running yourself into the ground. Now, get out of here, get a shower, some clothes, some sleep, or some coffee, just something other than sitting in that uncomfortable chair.” 

“Yes, sir…” Laura says softly, a fondness warming her chest at his concern for her as well as the sureness in his voice when he says that Peter will wake up. She can see why Peter made them pack. 

“I think Derek and Stiles are back at my place if you want to check in with them, but either way, I don’t want to see you back here for at least half an hour,” he says, a stern expression on his face but a softness in his eyes. It’s been a long time since she’d had somebody effectively use the Dad Voice on her.

“Okay, Sheriff. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” 

“I figured, and you can call me John, Laura. I’m off duty,” he says, pointing to the worn jeans and soft looking tee shirt he was wearing. 

“Thirty minutes, John and I’ll be back.” She chooses not to comment on the fact that he’d come back when his shift was over, or her newfound knowledge that that was fairly commonplace for him apparently. Peter needed someone and who better to have on your team than a dependable law man and his son.

“Lookin’ forward to it.” 

Laura debates actually going over to the sheriff’s house, it might get her more information on what happened to Derek and that whole brand new baby beta that has her low key panicking, especially since she’d had the benefit of being raised with the extra burden of alpha classes and even she was too scared to make any betas in New York. She can’t bring herself to be too far away from Peter so she decides to just call and check in on them. 

Then of course she remembers, she doesn’t have her phone and feels suddenly naked without it. She can’t reach Derek and he can’t reach her. That does not happen. 

Before she can really start to panic, she passes the nurses station and sighs in relief. _ Melissa McCall,_ her sweet thoughtful angel is there and she knows all she’ll need to do is ask.

“Can I borrow a phone? I just wanna check in on Derek.” 

“Sure, you can use mine… the old landline wires here don’t always work, and by always I mean hardly ever,” Melissa answers, a derisive snort as her eyes dart over to where the phone was off the cradle and was that- was that a fucking rotary phone?

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, for everything,” she says, as Melissa unlocks her cell phone and hands it over. She just smiles back and tells Laura to leave it on the desk when she’s finished. Laura nods in agreement and quickly dials Derek’s number. After several trips to voicemail she gives up, chewing at her lip as she heads down toward the cafeteria. 

The sheriff might have preferred that she get some sleep, but the idea of coffee is even better. With all the sugar that she can get to incorporate into it. Gritty drinks are gross and there’s no Starbucks with simple syrup here.

She’s getting ready to sit the phone down when a misplaced thumb exits the dialer and suddenly there’s a background picture of two boys. Without even really looking at it, there’s a thrum of familiarity, enough to make her pull it closer until she can see it better. 

_ Stiles. _

‘Jesus, is this kid everywhere?’ she says, mostly to herself. 

So Melissa knows Stiles… hmm maybe- before she can think better of it Laura is scrolling through contacts and she smiles when she sees one that says _ Sheriff, _ and then right below it _Stiles._

Laura places the call, before it can even fully ring, there’s an answer. 

“Scott is fine, Mrs. McCall. He’s-sleep- _ dude shut the fuck up- _ he’s sleeping,” Stiles lies, and maybe if she wasn’t a werewolf she wouldn’t have heard Scott in the background, but she didn’t have to be a werewolf to know he was lying. 

“Good to know but this is Laura. I was looking for Derek, actually.” 

“Oh, he’s uh- not sleeping, he’s-_ , _” Stiles starts and Laura just sighs. 

“Put him on the phone now, or I’ll give you a shiny new body piercing the last place you’d want one,” she says sweetly, holding back her laugh as Stiles obviously scrambles to get the phone to Derek.

“Lo-” 

“How’s it going, baby bro?” Laura asks, smiling a bit when she can practically hear the eyebrow scrunch. 

“Well… we’re about to be in the market for a new emissary… one with better taste in friends…” 

“Hey!” 

“Scott… don’t embarrass me in front of the big bad Alpha, okay?” 

“Stiles,” comes a whiny, partially raspy voice. 

Laura can’t help herself, she laughs, _ loudly. _ She’s not sure if it’s the moment, the shock, or all of the above but one minute she’s fine and the next she has to sit down to literally keep herself from rolling onto the floor while laughing. Derek complains that it isn’t funny but that only makes her laugh harder.

When she’s finally able to speak again, she wipes at her eyes and smiles, “Only you, DerBear.” 

“How’s Uncle Peter?” 

“He’s- I don’t know, I almost thought he squeezed my hand earlier but he’s still not waking up… the sheriff sent me for coffee so I figured I’d check in, two birds and all that,” she says, and he grunts in acknowledgment. If she didn’t know better she’d think he’s gone even further sub-vocal since meeting Stiles but she doesn’t think that’s possible. Derek’s already about as much caveman as he is wolf. 

“We’ll come by in a bit, bring you some clothes and stuff; as soon as I get things… _ settled _ here.” 

“Sure, take your time. I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”

When Laura gets back to the room, twenty nine and a half minutes later with a cheeky smile, Peter is sitting up, chatting with the sheriff like they’re old friends, because of course he is. He’s always loved proving her wrong after all. Her grip slips on her coffee but she manages not to drop it all over the floor.

* * *

Before he can even catch her scent, Laura is on top of him, arms folded around him and the smell of salty tears and bitter sadness nearly drowned out completely by the overwhelmingly honeyed scent of relief. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay now. I’m fine,” Peter croons, rubbing a hand down Laura’s back. 

“I’ll just, I’ll call Stiles and Derek, give them the good news,” John says, slipping out of the room quietly to give them some semblance of privacy. 

“Lo I-I’m sorry. I am angry that you left me, but I’m sorry for what happened last night I- I remember everything,” Peter says, squeezing tightly around his niece. “I would never hurt you, even in anger. That wasn’t me last night.”

“S’okay,” she answers, “I didn’t know you were- I didn’t realize you were hurting that much or I’d have never left. You have to know that, not even if the townspeople came after us with torches. Neither of us would have left you if we thought you were still..._ you. _The doctors said there was nothing to be done, Dr. Deaton agreed even. The nurses always said the same thing when we called. Every time.” 

They lay there for a while, Peter drinks in the scent of family, of pack, beyond the bonds he forged himself while captive in his own tortured mind. They weren’t any _ less _ pack because of it, but Laura smelled of kin, of memories, of bright green grass and sun warm skin, with just a hint of coconut from the lotion she loved so much. 

It was familiar and warm and home and Peter lets himself fall into it fully, lets himself have a break from the burning scents that have haunted him for years. He’s not alone.

When he blinks open, the weight of Laura is still mostly on him but gently eased away as he feels Derek’s hands under her lifting her into his arms to move her to the other bed. 

“She hasn’t slept much,” he explains, causing Peter to arch his brow. 

“And you, what about you Derek? I imagine you’ve slept like a baby these last few days,” he teased, though the bright eyed, quiet boy he used to know is no longer in front of him. There’s a flinch of movement, something almost imperceptible on Derek’s face but then just a casual shrug. 

Peter ignores it, well… he files it away for later, but continues on, “What? You’re too old for hugs now?” 

Derek rolls his eyes but shortens the distance between them fairly easily and pulls Peter into a hug of his own. 

“Ah, and you must be Stiles… I imagine it would be a little presumptuous for me to ask for a hug from you as well, so we’ll put that off for now. I do want to thank you, you and your father, for everything... I- I might not remember every conversation, but I know you were there, a much needed constant in the darkness.” 

John clears his throat at the thanks like he’s embarrassed they’re being thanked for being decent human beings and Stiles just beams, “Yeah, yup. I’m Stiles. Hi, Peter. Nice to see you finally awake.”

“Now that the gang’s all here,” John starts, looking between Laura who is sitting up again and Peter, “We haven’t been able to piece together what went down with the two of you disappearing this morning, or what’s caused Peter’s rather remarkable recovery. The shock must have jarred something in you is the doc’s best guess, like adrenaline boost from fight or flight stimulating his brain enough to wake up though no theories on the burns because he’s never seen anything like it.”

Laura smirks and wonders if breaking Peter’s nose helped trigger his healing too. She kinda still feels bad about it but he healed, and then he really healed so it was definitely worth whatever she had to go through to get to this point.

“Actually, about that…” Peter says and looks to Derek for approval. _ John is pack, he deserves to know _is what Peter’s look is clearly stating without voicing aloud.

After a sigh that clearly says this is not a conversation he wants to be having Derek says, “We could fill in the blanks on that for you-”

“All of that, actually,” Stiles cuts in, sensing the given approval for the topic, and Derek glares at him. “But it’s not going to be anything you’re going to want to include in a formal police report, believe me.”

John looks unsurprised, “Yeah, I kinda figured as much. This is Beacon Hills.” As if that covers it. Which, it actually kinda does.

“Shall we save this conversation for a more ideal time and place, such as not in the middle of what appears to be a very public emergency department at Beacon Hills Memorial?” Laura suggests, voice really starting to sound as tired as she feels even after her sugared up coffee. Damn metabolism.

“Yes, I think I would appreciate getting out of here for good,” Peter says, looking about the room distastefully. “I’ve had rather enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime, I’m sure.”

“One can only hope,” John says. “Let me go grab Melissa if she’s still on shift. She should be able to get your discharge squared away and your family’s here to release you to so there shouldn’t be any issues.”

He’s half out of the room before turning back around and adding, “Let’s all have that conversation sooner rather than later. We had a lot of manpower on this today and I need to know how I’m putting a bow on it.” Then he does go to track down Melissa.

“Is he gonna be cool with this?” Laura asks, looking to Stiles. 

Peter makes a thoughtful noise, picks at some lint on his sleeve and says, “Oh, I think you’ll be surprised by how much more he gets than he’s letting on. He’s been a deputy- now sheriff- in this town for a long time. I’m sure he’s seen some things that are going to make a lot more sense with context. This _ is _ Beacon Hills.”

“He’s put up with everything I’ve thrown at him in the last eighteen years so, yeah, I think Peter’s right that there’s a pretty good chance that adopted were-fam isn’t going to phase him as much as the aha moments about any potentially supernatural unsolved cases he’s got.” He looks at Peter then, “He’s been trying to solve yours for six years.”

“Yes, he might’ve mentioned,” Peter says with a smile like it warms his dark little heart that somebody has still be working to find justice for his family even if it wasn’t Laura and Derek.

* * *

It’s Monday night and Stiles is heading to his jeep after a very late-running detention for mouthing off his bastard of a chem teacher when he hears the telltale sound of a cane tap tap tapping in his direction.

Well fuck.

He manages a speed text to Derek and mentally yanks on that pack bond as hard as he can. Stiles may be the Hale Pack emissary but he’s green as hell at it and does not want to fuck this up. Is Deucalion even allowed to approach him without the Alpha present? Is there a book on werewolf etiquette that he can check out of the library? 

“Long time, no see.” And yep that’s Peter coming around the jeep to stand next to Stiles. And yep, that was definitely a go at his visual impairment that has even Stiles grimacing. They’re gonna die.

Deucalion however smiles, “Well now, Peter Hale… this is quite the surprise. Welcome back to the land of the living. Did you have a nice nap?”

Damn. The sass here is piping and Stiles gets the distinct impression that these two have some history that goes beyond what he’s learned from Laura and that they either really hate each other or really like each other. Sometimes there’s a really fine line. 

“Yes, well, a face like this needs some beauty rest from time to time. You might consider it yourself, you’re looking quite… hmm, let’s say tired. Old, really. But I’ll go with tired.”

Stiles feels his jaw drop and quickly shuts it, even though he knows the alpha can’t see it he’s trying to keep his composure like he’s sure a good emissary would.

Deucalion just laughs, actually laughs, and Stiles thinks they might be about to die for real this time.

Derek pulls into the next parking spot, in the Camaro no less, and slides out like royalty and up to Stiles’ other side. Stiles feels much better with a Hale on either side of him making him feel slightly less like he’s about to die. He belatedly notices Laura get out of the passenger side and join them as well. 

“Too busy working, you remember how that is. Don’t you?” Deucalion says to Peter before turning to Derek. “Alpha Hale. Your time is up.”

“The pack has grown in 48 hours. We’ve met your terms.” Derek says evenly. 

Deucalion does not look impressed but before he can make any further quips, Stiles says, “Not just grown, doubled.”

Peter thankfully does not point out that John and Stiles were technically already pack, so really they’ve only grown by one beta. They’re now a pack of six and Deucalion’s count had been three so Stiles is standing by his determination of having doubled, for argument’s sake. Unfortunately, Deucalion seems to know as much already anyways.

Laura, deciding to build on that and also vent her frustrations at this even being a conversation, adds in, “What is this 48 hours anyways? It’s arbitrary. You, of all people, should know how important it is to carefully consider who to trust around you. Pack growth isn’t something to be rushed if the goal is a suitable, stable pack.”

Laura gets an uneasy vibe off Derek when she’s talking about trusting people around the pack, it is the same feeling she gets off him whenever the fire is vaguely mentioned and is usually accompanied by a wave of guilt. She’s starting to connect some dots here herself and files that nugget away for later because there are more pressing matters currently.

“Very well, it’s not exactly what I expected and we both know that it hardly meets the terms of the agreement given that two of the members you’ve ‘_added’ _ are humans, but you’ve got a shiny new beta and I suppose there’s a point to be made for caution, especially from those previously… _ burned_,” he says, hiding a smile as he hears the growl of Hale. “You’ll be granted a small extension. 

“Agreement?” Derek scoffs, “I think you’re remembering our conversation a bit differently than I am. From where I was standing it was more of an ultimatum.”

“Derek you can’t honestly expect us to sit by the wayside and watch the territory that we fought for, bled for, succumb to darkness. I am not here to make idle threats, boy; and you would do well to remember your place.” 

Peter makes a show of looking down at his watch, “Hmm… looks like you’re about, let’s see, six years late on that front. You’d do well to remember Derek’s place, too. As Hale Alpha doesn’t he technically outrank you now?”

“He very well may, but he’s young and inexperienced-” 

“Hale’s a Hale.” Peter says cutting him off. “The Hale pack may be greatly diminished from what we were, but we are by no means down and out. I stand by my alpha and I challenge your authority to even dole out such ultimatums. If Talia were here-”

“But she isn't, Peter! And while I am willing to admit having you back on the board of the council is most advantageous, even you can’t stop the darkness. There is evil coming for your territory and without _ proper _ numbers, you will be overwhelmed and overrun before you even know what’s happening!” Deucalion growled, his eyes flashing red as he pulled off his shades. 

“So we’re supposed to believe you’re here out of concern then? For us, for the territory?”Stiles says finally, wanting to make sure he’s crystal clear in understanding the picture that’s being painted here while trying not to flinch in the face of Deucalion’s red eyes that burn with a terrifying ferocity he’s never found in Derek’s gaze.

“If Hale lands fall to evil, we are _ all _ lost,” he said, trying to show them just how serious the situation was. Months of preparation had gone into just this one visit, and even that had not worked out as planned. “It’s not solely a selfless gesture but make no mistake, I fought and bled for this land just as much as Talia Hale ever did and I won’t see it’s downfall just because a headstrong Alpha is too scared to bite.” 

“We accept your offer for more time.” Derek says, arms crossed firmly across his chest. “Any further elucidation on the coming threat would probably be in your best interest.”

“Timeline of expected incursion? What are we looking at here? Is warding of any use? Like, literally anything. You’re more vague than our last emissary.” Laura says, emboldened by Derek and Peter’s words.

“There’s a seer, she’s yet to be misinformed in any of my interactions with her and she says there’s a threat of unimaginable power coming to Beacon Hills. That this threat, could potentially use this land as a weapon against all supernatural creatures, the-there is power hidden here, your mother was the strongest Alpha and she was selected it’s guardian. If anyone were to access that power, it-it could be the end of days in just a matter of weeks,” he says, drawing out a long sigh. “I had hoped a large, strong Hale presence would discourage any who came to seek that power; but if not at least you would have a chance to stop them.” 

“Well, then it sounds like we’ve got a couple weeks. Good talk.” Stiles says.

“See to it that you heed this warning. It is not made lightly.”

“See you then?” Peter queries and Laura elbows him in the ribs.

“Stands to reason that if you’ve defended this source before that you’d be here if it was under threat again. If it’s that grave, why are you trusting us to handle it?” Derek asks, not paying any mind to Peter’s quip at the other alphas sightlessness.

“Hale’s a Hale.” Deucalion says, parroting back Peter’s earlier words. He slides his shades back on and heads towards the slick black, official-looking SUV waiting at the other end of the lot.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter 5 

Scott is actually a decent werewolf, when he listens. He definitely seems to listen more to Laura than Derek so Laura’s coaching him through being a not shitty alpha at the same time. She has a lot of work cut out for her. She’s not trying to but she’s undermining Derek at every turn. He just makes the dumbest choices, she can’t help it. 

He thinks they should lay low in the train depot, she rents them a condo near Peter’s apartment. He thinks he’s going to be allowed to drive Scott and Stiles around in the Camaro without attracting unwanted attention, she buys him a Toyota. He tries to tell Scott that they’re brothers now and that the bite is a gift, she grits her teeth and knows that’s not going to land well. 

Scott petulantly throws back, “I never asked for this!” while Stiles tries not to look guilty. Kid should be thankful he’s alive and most days he is but when Derek pushes his buttons, which he’s alarmingly good at for somebody who speaks mostly in eyebrow, Scott’s stubbornness surfaces.

The next time he gets frustrated training and throws that in Derek’s face, he looks wounded and Laura watches Stiles snap to attention and place himself between them, “Oh, I’m sorry that you have amazing healing abilities, no more asthma, an overnight six pack, strength, speed and super senses that I know you’re using to your advantage to help impress Allison and be everything you couldn’t be at school before. Must be so inconvenient for you. Would you have preferred we let you fucking die?”

Scott has the grace to look abashed at the blunt truths being lashed at him, though Laura’s not really sure why because Stiles hasn’t had a brain to mouth filter since she’d met him when they came back to town. He’s certainly not going to start now, though maybe he should, as emissary and all. But he’s not wrong.

For now she lets him say what he needs to say because she’s really looking forward to Scott getting the hell over it and not throwing the bite in Derek’s face like it’s offensive they all exist. She knows he doesn’t mean it that way, that he’s just being a teenager and that but as alpha she can tell Derek’s working towards that found family feeling you get with pack and they’re just not there yet. 

Peter is already their family, has welcomed them back more warmly than they deserve even. John and Stiles have taken to them like white on rice. She brings Melissa and the ER nurses pie sometimes when she stops at the diner for delicious, greasy breakfast so she thinks she’s probably in Mama McCall’s good graces too. Scott, though, Scott is surprisingly resistant to his family being anyone other than his mom, Stiles, and John even though he seems to like Laura well enough.

Scott makes the lacrosse team for the first time in his high school career, Derek doesn’t think his control is good enough to be out on the field. Even as born wolves, their mom never let them play contact sports because she felt it would be risky for the people they were playing and for their control. Derek had warned him against trying out, Scott went anyways and Stiles tagged along because he couldn’t not. Coach was impressed with his improvement, Jackson was noticeably skeptical.

Derek shows up to watch Scott during lacrosse practices to be sure he’s not slipping in front of any humans. Laura shows up too and cuffs him over the head, waves cheerily to him and to Stiles who has also made the team, and tells Derek to stop glaring and acting like a creeper. 

“This is not how to show your support, Der.”

Derek tries to fight Scott to teach him control, Laura facepalms. She throws tennis balls at them both till she has their attention and then teaches Scott breathing exercises, meditation, and anchoring techniques. Even without any alpha powers, Laura is acting more like the alpha she was raised to be than she ever was in New York. 

She tries teaching Scott everything she thinks a bitten wolf should know, the things they’d learned as young children or that came naturally to them that Scott now has to learn to adapt to. She tries to teach Derek everything she can remember from her alpha lessons but it’s a lot and most of the groundwork was a long time ago. Peter is amused by her attempts but doesn’t ever correct her so she thinks she must be doing an okay enough job.

It’s different, she thinks, with a bitten pack than being born into a pack. She wonders if it’s harder because Stiles and Scott are younger than them, still in high school with all the crap that comes along with that time of life. Her mother’s pack already had an established hierarchy and everybody knew the drill. 

Scott has to learn the ropes, Derek has to learn to speak his language and not catastrophize every damn thing so menacingly, and she’s got to maintain her sanity. 

It’s all going precariously, at best, but Stiles makes a damn good emissary for a noob and helps to keep them all as close to being on the same page as possible. Derek had taken her suggestion to have him do some work with Dr. Deaton to better learn the ropes of his own new role. He’d been her mom’s emissary since before she was born. 

Even as a druid, which Stiles distinctly is not, she thinks he’s a good resource for them plus he’s already familiar with Scott. Peter appears to be slipping Stiles books from his private collection to bolster his education because Laura can smell that distinctive scent on him. 

Peter always answers Stiles questions thoughtfully, if sometimes bitingly sarcastic, but sasses Laura and Derek whenever possible just like he used to. She can tell that he appreciates that Stiles hasn’t given up their standing Saturday visits now that he’s a contributing member of society again. 

Derek teaches Scott about chemosignals and using his sense of smell. Laura loves that he seems to have that down, that Scott’s listening and learning. Derek tries to teach him to use his hearing by giving him a heart attack in a parking garage. Laura’s less thrilled about that technique and refuses to share her pad thai at dinner in retaliation. 

He’s not amused when she shoves him away from her takeout containers and says, “Go catch a rabbit or something, big bad wolf.”

The next day she works with Scott on the same concept, but by playing hide and seek with him and Stiles. Stiles is always easiest to find and alternates between loudly cheering Scott on and mocking him for not being able to find Laura. Only Derek can find Laura, and only when she wants him to, but he’s had a lot more practice and he’s got Alpha perks. Scott responds well to group work, watching Derek struggle to find Laura also helps. By the end of the evening, she thinks they’re killing this bitten wolf thing and Scott’s got it down. This pack is starting to really feel like a pack.

Of course, it all goes to shit at their first lacrosse game. Scott struggles to maintain control, Derek’s looking on menacingly in the distance, and Laura wants the earth to swallow her whole when she realizes the girl cheering for Scott in the stands- the girl with the dimples that had given her the weird feeling in the diner their first day back in town- is sitting with Chris Argent. Chris Argent the hunter. 

By the time Stiles is calming Scott down with a cold shower in the locker room, Laura and Derek are on them both. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Stiles tries to tell them, hand up to keep them back and give Scott space. “He calmed himself down.”

“In the shower.” Derek is not impressed.

“At some point after he became acquainted with the cold shower, yes.”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Derek says, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got bigger problems,” Laura says, unhelpfully. 

They all turn to look at her, “Scott’s girlfriend is an Argent.”

Derek’s face turns white as a sheet and Stiles, ever observant, continues to put some dots together that Derek would probably prefer stayed disconnected.

“So?” Scott says, standing up and turning off the water finally. 

“The Argents are hunters, Scott. They kill people like us.” Derek says. But of course, because he’s always saying shit will kill them, Laura doesn’t blame him for taking that statement with a grain of salt.

Before he can protest she cuts in, “Seriously. Her dad’s Chris Argent. Peter had a run in with him a long time ago and they had an agreement with my mom. As long as we didn’t hurt anyone; which, why would we even, he wouldn’t hunt us. He said they had a code, they only hunt those who hunt humans or something like that.”

“I feel a but coming…” Stiles says.

“But, after they came to town my entire family died in a mysterious fire and your dad says they conveniently left town shortly thereafter,” Laura says.

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Scott says. 

“Dude, I know you like her and she seems cool and all but maybe we should look further into this. If her dad’s really a hunter, if he knows about you, I don’t want to see you hurt. If it’s true, what if he comes after your mom?”

“So you’re telling me I can’t see her now, too? Come on, Stiles. That’s not fair.” Puppy dog eyes are out in full force, but Stiles looks away from him deferring to Derek and Laura.

“Life’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair. What happened to my family isn’t fucking fair. Us being weary because we don’t want the same to happen to you seems pretty fair from where I’m standing.” Laura says, acid seeping into her tone. 

“We’re done here,” Derek says, pulling on Laura’s elbow.

She looks to Stiles, wants him to come with them, but sees it in his eyes that he can’t. She knows he agrees with them, she can feel it, but he’s all Scott’s got to hold his shit together right now and walking away from him is not an option.

“Let’s get you home, buddy. It’s been a long day.” Stiles says, talking quietly to Scott. Laura hears him acquiesce just before they’re out of earshot and thinks that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance he won’t desert the pack over a girl he’s known for less than a month. Sure, he’s known _ them _less than a month too but he’s known Stiles his whole life and Stiles is pack too.

Derek’s silence is jarring, she expected him to have more to say about the girl and the ill-fated relationship, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to be talking any time soon. Actually, he looks more like he wants to puke and even hands her the keys to drive once they get back to the packed lot.

They’re going to need to talk to Peter and John about this development, sooner rather than later.

* * *

  


Stiles calls a meeting on Sunday afternoon, trying to pull rank as emissary before anybody can speak up and try to complain or get out of it. They’re gathered around the living room in Laura’s condo facing the large tv she had bought mostly for herself, but also a little bit for the potential of pack movie nights and the prospect of somebody who would actually challenge her in Mario Kart in a way Derek still refused to. 

Stiles has his laptop out and is doing some sort of technical wizardry with it when the screen lights up to a decorative title card which reads “The Beta Equation: Stiles Stilinski’s Awesome Ideas About How to Expand The Hale Pack” in an appropriately scientific font selection. All the capital letters look like bits of the periodic table and Laura immediately thinks more of Breaking Bad than of the school lesson she thinks Stiles might be aiming for here.

“Dude, a powerpoint?” Scott asks despairingly, because he’s Scott and he doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life, like slide shows. 

“I’m going to ignore the whine there Scotty and get back to my presentation. First slide! This is Alpha Derek Hale, he’s a bit rough around the edges, but solid murder brows and threatening demeanor, sure to terrorize all the locals both human and small woodland creature alike. 

The next five slides are Derek getting progressively more angry at Stiles taking his picture, to which the Alpha just responds with a huff and a quiet, “Get on with it.” If the tips of his ears go a bit pink at that, either nobody notices or they’re too interested in what’s next to comment.

“Local Alpha Derek Hale is the only pack member that can bite and turn a human into a werewolf. Not to be speciest against my own kind or anything but while human pack members are more than welcome in the Hale Pack, or so I’m told, we need wolves if we’re going to restore balance, fight evil, and yada yada whatever else old Duke was spitting out,” he says, waving his hand back toward the large tv, still displaying his presentation, “So obviously Derek is a key resource in our upcoming plans.” 

Laura holds up a finger to Stiles, ”Give me just a minute, I’ll be right back… well, two minutes and forty-seven seconds,” she grins, sprinting off toward the kitchen. A few minutes later, she’s back with a bowl of popcorn and Stiles thinks for a brief moment, that she might be his favorite. She’s not, but she’ll hold the place until one of the others does something equally as awesome. 

Peter reaches over for a handful as well and Stiles just chuckles at them both. 

“Next, we move on to potential pack candidates. After researching, talking with Deaton and Peter, and making a few inquiries of my own, I’ve learned that the success rate for the bite is higher with those between the ages of sixteen and twenty-six. As we originally thought there was a fifty percent chance of change or death, I have now learned that the change rate for those in this particular demographic is closer to 93% success and 7 percent failure, which is the highest bracket we researched. I wasn’t willing to go younger than sixteen or older than sixty,” he says, clearly pointing toward the slide that has a couple of crudely drawn children and others stick figures with walkers. 

“First potential candidate: Erica Reyes,” Stiles says, with an old school photo that he’d copied from the yearbook. 

“Erica is level-headed, logical, and compassionate. She also suffers from Epilepsy and from what we’ve learned, the medication is no longer working for her. I believe that the bite could help her and there have been at least six reported cases of the bite curing this particular disorder and allowing for a longer and a more healthy life as a wolf.” 

“Ooh I like her, she looks like she’s got some moxy!” Laura grins, spurring Stiles on. 

“I think she could have, I- I think she’s spent her whole life trying _ not _ to be noticed so we don’t have a lot of information to go on here but like I said, I think the bite could help her and she’d be willing, and she’d also be a good fit. It’s a good pitch point, at the very least.”

Scott doesn’t look entirely convinced that being healthy is really a solid sales point but he’s benefiting from that perk nonetheless.

“Next up,” Stiles says, clicking his mouse. “Isaac Lahey. He’s on the lacrosse team with us, and though he’s not stuck riding the bench with me, he’s also more of a background player. He doesn’t get much recognition and I haven’t figured out if he likes it that way or not. However I do know that he’s a sarcastic little shit when he wants to be, but he’s empathetic, loyal, and as much as I hate to say this, he’s in a useful position. He works as a groundskeeper at the cemetery.” 

“I don’t know, Stiles… he smells _off,_” Scott says, bringing the presentation to a halt. 

“What do you mean by off, Scotty?” 

“I don’t know, he just… he smells sick all the time, or in pain. I don’t know how to describe it,” Scott says, frowning at the room and shrugging. 

“And that brings me to the next point,” Stiles says, shaking his head sadly. “I strongly suspect that Isaac is being abused by his father. After watching him closely, and not in a creeper way, I know that he always changes last in the locker room and has a lot of bruises and scars that aren’t and can’t be from lacrosse which are conveniently normally covered by clothes. I talked to my dad too, for context. He said, off the record of course, that Isaac’s older brother tried to lodge a complaint before he headed overseas because he was worried about escalation when he was gone. They couldn’t present any evidence, Isaac refused to cooperate, and Camden was KIA before they could get any further information to substantiate the claim, so DCFS refused to pursue the case against the champion swim coach based solely on what they considered to be rumor. They were more concerned about tarnishing his sterling reputation.” 

“Stiles, not that I’m disapproving necessarily, but is there a _ reason _ you’re turning this into an episode of Hale House for Broken Humans?” Peter asks, Derek and Laura both flinch. 

“Because, you need a pack and you need the pack to need you, otherwise it’s not going to work. Besides, these people aren’t broken… they have their own histories, sure, but who doesn’t?” he says, shaking his head in disbelief toward Peter. “Erica had a seizure and some douchebag at school videotaped it and uploaded it to YouTube. She still walks into that building every day, head held high and makes solid grades despite the bullying. And don’t even get me started with Isaac; do you have any idea what kind of strength, what kind of courage it takes to withstand abuse and torture from someone who is supposed to love and support you, someone who’s supposed to protect you, day in and day out, and still remain loyal when you’re offered an escape? _That’s the_ kind of strength we need in our pack. That’s also the kind of shit that they deserve to be offered a lifeline out of and if we’re in a position to give it, we should at least consider it or we’re no better than the rest of those assholes.”

“Oh, I have complete faith in your choices, Stiles. I just wanted to see you defend your reasoning. It’s easy for you to notice things, to study people, you’ve been doing it your whole life. I wanted to see you explain why it was good for the _ pack _ not just good for them individually, and you’ve done so splendidly,” Peter answers, bowing his head like a complete dork, in Stiles's opinion anyway.

“I’ve got one more, actually… as much as it pains me to say it,” Stiles clicks his mouse and Scott whines loudly earning skeptical Hale eyebrows from each of the three Hales. It’s moments like this when you can really see the relation.

“Noooo, c’mon Stiles! Jackson?!” 

“Scott, I’ve done the math. He’s a logical choice. You know I’m not exactly his biggest fan either, but he’s already a star athlete, he’s got great control over his body and his movements, and his planning for plays is expertly tailored to the opposition every single game. That implies, and again it pains me to voice such a thought, that the dude is capable of the type of analytical thinking that could be extremely valuable. Still a douche, but a valuable douche. He’s also actually trained in a couple different kinds of martial arts, which could be useful even without claws and fangs, _ and _ his dad is one of the most powerful people in Beacon Hills… next to my dad of course. They don’t appear to have the healthiest of relationships either, judging by the shit he pulls on the regular at least.” Stiles adds, with a small smile to himself, “Jackson is kind of a dick, you’re right on that Scott, but he’s also onto you and he’s not going to let this go…” 

“Besides, it’s not only up to me. Derek and Laura and Peter and even you, have to agree or it’s not going to work. I say you guys take a few days, or the week, do some scouting of your own, and we’ll meet back here to do a blind vote or something, he offers. They all agree and then Laura wraps an arm around Stiles’ neck and walks back with him to the kitchen. “I’m proud of you kid… that’s some good homework you put together.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I was actually gonna suggest the Lahey kid myself. I used to know his brother from the swim team, Cam was cool and if I can do anything to help his family, I’mma do it.” 

“Good, I think he could be good for us, and-” Stiles cut himself off, knowing Scott could probably hear him. Still, he wasn’t fond of keeping secrets from his best friend, so he finished his thought. “I think he’d be good for Scott, to curb some of his… lesser qualities.’ 

“Well I sure hope you’re right, that best friend of yours is a pain,” she answers, grinning when there’s a yelp of, “HEY!” from the other room. 

* * *

“The approach has to be subtle,” Stiles says, attempting to give Derek a pep talk before he makes contact with Erica. “She’s not skittish or afraid or anything, but come on too strong and you’ll turn her into ‘the girl who cried werewolf’, so… y’know, don’t do that.” 

Derek just tilts his head to the side with an incredulous expression and glares, “I know how to _ talk _ to people, Stiles.” 

“Do you?” he says skeptically, “Because the history of literally every single one of our interactions would prove otherwise, buddy.” 

Derek just growls and Stiles quickly pulls his hand away from where it was resting on the Alpha’s shoulder. He doesn’t know when it ended up there but he respects boundaries.

“You wound me, Derek. I’m wounded…” 

“Stay here, _ don’t go anywhere_.” 

“That doesn’t work on me!” Stiles calls out, but Derek is already out of the jeep and headed into the small bookshop where Erica has just slipped inside. He approaches her slowly, meandering through the aisles as if he’s actually looking for something. When he purposely knocks against gently her, he quickly apologizes and gives her his biggest smile. 

She blinks up at him, cocks an eyebrow and says, “No,” and walks away. 

_ Fuck. _

Derek sends a message to his sister because while he did want to prove to Stiles he could at least pretend to be a normal person, it was clear that Laura would be more suited to the task. Besides, she has a softer touch which Erica needs.

When he makes it back out to the jeep Stiles is wearing a cocky grin as if he knows exactly what happened and even though it’s impossible for him to _ actually know_, Derek still feels a little embarrassed anyway. 

“Just drive,” he growls, not waiting for the, ‘I told you so,’ to drop jovially from Stiles’ lips. It comes anyway when Laura texts back within the hour that Erica’s interested in learning more and Stiles crows victoriously while Derek glowers at him. Derek knows they’re going to obnoxiously high five about this as soon as they get home.

* * *

Next is Isaac, Scott actually does the approach this time because Stiles occasionally has good ideas and unlike Derek, Scott looks about as threatening as a box of bunny rabbits and with Isaac, non-threatening is definitely the way to go. Plus, it’s an exercise in building interpersonal pack relationships; by which he means, Scott will ease Isaac into the pack with warm smiles and friendly gestures, and Isaac, if he chooses to be a wolf, will help Scott adjust to that other half of his life now. Or that’s what Stiles is hoping happens, at least. 

Jackson- well, Jackson actually comes to them. Stiles and Derek are leaving their preferred coffee shop, the one with the best assortment of baked goods, with their orders in hand when they’re stopped just before they get to the car by Jackson’s appearance.

“I want whatever it is you gave McCall,” he says, like he doesn’t know, or maybe just doesn’t want to say it aloud, which… understandable, Stiles can work with that. He’s just about to say so but Derek speaks first. 

“No.” 

_ Which wait, what? _

This interaction was actually poised to end well and Derek had just… shut it down. 

Stiles is pretty sure Derek hates him and that this is some sort low-key torture at this point. But wisely, he doesn’t mention that and just sips his drink slowly to see how this plays out. 

“I know he’s not- natural, there’s no way he could have improved so much overnight without _ something_, and whatever it is, I want it. He’s too vanilla to have gotten it himself so I know you’re involved. I’ve seen you around.” 

“It’s not something I’m going to give you just because you’ve never heard the word no before,” Derek says, shaking his head and taking a sip of his presumably scalding coffee as if it’s more important than this conversation, “It’s more than a status symbol. We’ve considered you, and there’s some good arguments for bringing you in,” he says, glancing back to Stiles purposefully. “But at the end of the day it’s my choice and I’m not going to bring some _ spoiled_, _ entitled, bully _ into my pack, into my _ family _.” 

Stiles watches, almost impressed, as Jackson flinches. 

“Fine, you want me to earn it… I’ll earn it, just tell me what you want me to do,” Jackson says, basically already a growl. Stiles called it, he’s totally gonna be a badass werewolf, even if he is kind of a dick sometimes. 

“Stiles,” Derek says, as if that solves everything. 

Jackson looks at him, looks back to Derek, and back to him again. “You want me to _ do _ Stilinski?” 

Derek looks entirely unimpressed as Stiles shrieks in horror, “No, no no no. Absolutely not. You are _ so _ not my type.” 

Jackson smirks, “I’m _ everyone’s _ type.” 

Derek sighs, “He’s the one who suggested you. Maybe if you work together, you can show us why.” 

Jackson looks at Stiles with pure, unadulterated disbelief for more than a few beats. Then he snaps himself out of it and quickly schools his face, “Yeah, okay. I can do that.” 

“Good, I’ll make my decision at the end of the week.” 

Jackson nods, and Stiles huffs… _ Derek definitely hates him_. 

* * *

  


Stiles thinks that his “training” time with Jackson is going to be a headache, and well, that’s fair because Jackson is a headache. But it’s not as bad as he imagined when they actually start spending time together. Really it just amounts to a single conversation, mostly awkward and uncomfortable for both of them, but when it’s over, that’s it. Stiles is reassured that Jackson belongs, and Jackson is reassured that he has a place _ to _ belong, and funnily enough, that seems to be all he’d been looking to find. 

Well, that and the bite, but that is all on Derek. 

Stiles has done his part, he tamed the douchenozzle that is Jackson Whittmore, he’s practically a werewolf contestant whisperer at this point. Plus, he was totally right about Jackson being observant because he showed up to their chat with exactly what Stiles had been drinking from exactly the right shop as when he’d approached them before. Stiles can be bribed with good coffee, but Jackson was already one of his picks so he’s not really swayable at this point.

At the end of the week they have another meeting, this time everyone shows up. Erica appears timid, but it’s just a ruse. Isaac appears confident, on the edge of cocky but Stiles is pretty sure that’s all an act as well. Jackson is learning humility, though unfortunately, they’re not expecting a full personality transplant overnight, but it’s much better than it had been. And just when Stiles thinks they’re all ready to go, all the wolves shift their view toward the door a few beats before there’s a timid knock. 

Derek, who seems unsurprised by this little tidbit, moves to open it, leaving everyone else to stare at him in surprise mostly, for Stiles, curiosity. But Stiles is curious about everything Derek does, never in his life has he wanted so much to take someone apart to see how they work. 

“Guys, this is Boyd. I’ve already explained things to him and he’s sitting in today as another potential. 

“Ooh Alpha’s Pet!” Stiles says, trying to cut the small amount of tension in the room and everyone starts to chuckle a little. It isn’t an incredibly funny joke, but it works to do what he intended. Peter looks at him pointedly, like he’s one to talk about who’s the alpha’s pet when he’s the one that spends the most time with the guy.

“So… who has questions?” Stiles asks, and hands go up everywhere. Stiles sighs to himself, it’s going to be a long night. Might as well text his dad that he’s going to be home late. Just then he sees something out of the corner of his eye. He blinks, “Peter, really?”

“What? Am I not allowed to have questions for our new potential packmates?” Peter says, in his slick, sweet tone. 

Stiles can practically feel his classmates take a step back. 

“Not now, you are officially last for scaring the new betas,” Stiles says, and then turns to the group. “He’s doing that on purpose, he's a big softy wolf, practically a teddy bear, nothing to worry about,” Stiles lies, giving Peter a look that clearly means pretend to be a goddamn teddy bear. 

Peter tries to smile innocently at the assembled group but there’s a look about them that clearly has the newbies not quite settled on the belief that he is a teddy bear. Jackson tries to look unaffected but the only one who may truly be is Boyd, who quirks a single unamused eyebrow. He’s gonna fit right in.

“Anyyyway,” Stiles says, “So you all have had some version of werewolf 101 but this is more about what places you might hold in the pack, what the pack can offer you outside of what you’ve already been told, and all the information we know about the coming threat. 

There’s a strange, strangled sound from Derek as if Stiles wasn’t supposed to give up that part of the puzzle but Stiles remains unaffected. “I’m not pulling them in with the promise of a better life, of super strength and speed and low-level invincibility and not telling them about any of the risks involved. Hunters, for starters, and anything else that might come our way.”

“Part of being in a pack, especially this pack,” Laura says looking at each of their prospective betas one at a time as if assessing their abilities in that moment alone, “is that we are always honest with each other. We will always be there for each other when it’s needed, but give you space to fight your battles, bother literal and metaphorical, when you need it. If you choose to join this pack, we’re in this together.”

They have half a second to look reassured by Laura’s words before she looks right at Jackson like she’s looking through his very soul, “There is no I in team. I don’t care how smart you think you are; you follow orders and you work with the pack. Can you do that?”

Jackson looks like he’s about to snap back in his normal style but then Stiles clears his throat and obviously, he starts to think better of it, instead he takes a breath and says, “Yes. I can do that.” 

Derek must hear the truth of it in his heartbeat, or however the wolfy lie detector works, because he nods. Laura goes through the paces with each of them in turn, each stating that they’re able to do what needs to be done and Derek nodding once at each of them.

“Does that mean it’s my turn now?” Peter pipes up. If they thought he was going to be the scary one, they’re surprised by the turn of events because it was Laura who had the cutting remarks and Peter’s the one whose commentary they’ll find more reassuring.

“If you can behave yourself,” Stiles says, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Though logically he knows Derek will go next. 

“Now that my dear niece has cut them all to the quick,” Peter says, “would anyone care for some refreshments? I was thinking Indian but I could always be swayed into pizza, if that’s what majority rules?”

That serves to sufficiently break the heaviness of the conversation and the conversation briefly devolves into a food debate and eventually a vote. Peter excuses himself into the kitchen to order when it’s all settled.

“So while we wait for the food, if you guys have any questions you wanna ask, now’s the time. Laura is a lifetime member of the werewolf club and will know how to answer almost anything, I mean you guys know she, Peter and I are all frank, honest, and much better at communication than Derek. Speaking of Derek, he and I are going to take you, one at a time, into the den,” Stiles says, pointing toward the closed off room behind them, “and talk to you a little bit about what you’re expecting, what your place in the pack might be if you want it, and if you’ve decided, whether or not you want the bite, sound good?” 

Everyone nods in agreement, and Stiles grins. 

“Anything you guys are thinking about but maybe didn’t want to voice to the group at large, now’s your chance,” Stiles says reassuringly, like he’s not also completely new to all this and basically faking it til he makes it. “Jax, you’re up first.” 

“Call me that again, and you’re dead Stilinski,” Jackson teases, then stops dead in his tracks as if he realizes just what he said and to whom. 

Stiles isn't even phased, just knocks his shoulder against Jackson’s and says, “Oh, I can come up with something way worse,” he grins, a mischievous tug at his lips until they are pushing against his cheeks. “Or would we can curb your embarrassment now, and you can just let me call you Jax, Jax.” 

“I hate you so much,” he says, his eyes hesitantly glancing up for Derek. 

“Tell me, Derek… did his wittle heart go bumpty bump?” Stiles asks, chuckling when Jackson froze under his arm.

“Yup.” 

“Awww Jax, you really dooooo love me!” Stiles laughed, a loud raucous noise that was nearly a cackle as Jackson playfully tried to get away from him, putting a hand to his face as Stiles began making kissy faces at him and Scott looks on in horror. 

A week of getting to really know the person behind the douchey exterior making Stiles substantially less worried about this kind of joking around than he would’ve been a year ago. He really does think Jackson’s got what it takes to make this work, that each of them has a little something to them that the pack is lacking.

Once inside the den, Stiles shuts the door and the room becomes soundproof to the human ears outside. Finally, they get to the moment they’ve been waiting on. 

Meanwhile, in the other room Laura is hugging a pillow to her stomach and laughing loudly as Scott covers his ears and shouts the lyrics to the Happy Birthday song en Espanol, at least she’s pretty sure that’s what he’s saying. She took German in high school, Spanish is not her forte. 

“What? Jeez sorry, I was just curious!” Erica says, defending her question.

“Oh no, my sweet summer child, don’t for a moment apologize for that golden moment,” Laura grinned. “Scottty will just have to put his big beta pants on and deal!” 

“So the truth is, it’s not as simple as only scent, though I did purposely say that to freak Scott out, he’s already pack so it’s kinda my job. I’ll do the same with you guys, if you want in,” Laura says, reaching out and holding her hand for Erica to come up to the couch. “There are some scents that are harder to figure out than others. Some, are instinct and you’ll just know. Others, you might need to ask questions about or describe in strange ways but it’s likely that one of us will know what you’re talking about,” she says, and then continues. “But scent isn’t science, it isn't absolute either. For instance, if an Alpha werewolf wants to hide their scent, to keep nosy noses from figuring out what they’re thinking, they can do that. But take Stiles for instance. When we first met him, he smelled almost entirely of himself, of Scott and his dad too, and a few small notes of people he’d passed by or spoken to that day. The scent of high school will stay on you for _ hours _ if you’re human, if you’re a wolf… you’ll shower regularly and share the scent of a packmate to help block out the bits of strangers.” 

“So like I would smell like me, my parents, and my cat Ginger?” Erica asks, curious about what she could potentially smell like a wolf. 

“Remember when I said we’re honest with each other, this is part of that,” Laura says softly, “You smell like you and probably your parents and the cat but mostly, you just smell sick. You smell sick and sad and angry and bitter, most of the time. Tonight, though, it’s mostly just you, medicine, and sickness.” 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Erica says, and Laura pulls her into a hug. 

“Also once you’ve learned how to control your senses, to filter things out, pick out notes in a scent, it will be easier to know what you ignore and what you need to speak up about. What’s considered polite conversation between wolves, and what’s stepping over those boundaries.” 

“Next question…” 

Boyd sits back watching, not asking much himself, or anything really but he paid attention to the questions and answers, paid attention to Laura and when he reemerged from the kitchen, Peter. He isn’t sure he wants this but he can’t help but feel like maybe there is something for him here, bite or not. 

* * *

By the end of the weekend Erica, Isaac, and Jackson have enough control that they’re cleared to return to school. The next full moon isn’t for another three weeks and Laura assures them they’ve got plenty of time to really work on that control before then. She, Peter, and Derek take them through the paces using the lessons they’d learned from what worked- and what didn’t -with Scott when he was their sole new beta. 

Peter likes to periodically test them by making double-edged remarks about one or another, and always smirks with satisfaction when the others come to their defense. He’d had his doubts about how close you could forge relationships with people who’d been somewhat in each other’s orbits their whole lives but had never voluntarily interacted before now but they’ve come together valiantly. Their strengths and weaknesses really were as compatible as Stiles had thought, fancy PowerPoint and all. 

Derek and Stiles are careful to include Boyd as much as possible. He’s remarkably good at hide and seek with the pack for a dude who had opted not to take the bite “just yet” and was operating with solely human senses. Derek swings by the ice rink when Boyd’s closing up so he doesn’t have to be alone. He doesn’t say anything about it directly, but they know they both appreciate the quiet companionship.

Boyd’s Nana seemingly doesn’t care that Derek’s a little older and hanging around with her grandson because she invites him over to Sunday dinner, Laura and Peter too when she finds out they’re back at home too. She says she’s happy to see him getting out again, for more than just school or work. When Erica and Jackson come home from school with him to study, she bakes cookies for them. Usually, a tupperware container full of them winds up in a bag hanging from Derek’s doorknob.

Boyd shows up for the first full moon even though he doesn’t have to, stays by Stiles’ side and observes how the pack all works together even on the most heightened of their days. He, Stiles, and John are the token humans but they’re still pack. John and Peter are chatting in the kitchen, Laura and Derek are getting everybody else comfortably settled in for the night, and Stiles is looking up recipes because Thanksgiving is coming up soon and he’s got way more mouths to feed than usual. 

Laura and Derek guide the new betas, including Scott because it’s only his second full moon, through meditation and the centering exercises they’ve been practicing all month. Derek reminds them to find their anchor, the key to their control. Stiles thinks it’s a bit like the totems from Inception that help them stay tied to reality, except in this case their anchors are not always a physical item. 

Stiles isn’t actually sure what each person’s anchor is, and Laura says it’s fine if they never want to share that information because it can be deeply personal. Stiles tries really hard not to facepalm when Scott chooses to share that his anchor is his love for Alison. John and Peter had both been keeping a keen eye out for Argent activity, especially after Laura had seen them at the first lacrosse game and realized their connection to Scott. Scott is convinced she is not a hunter and says there’s no indication she even knows her dad is or ever was a hunter. Scott also forgets that Romeo and Juliet both die and that he should probably stop equating them.

John heads home around 2 am, and Peter heads out for a run around three. Stiles is sprawled across the couch drooling on a throw pillow and Boyd’s napping intermittently in the comfy chair, checking frequently on his new friends. The betas have all done extremely well with the full moon, eliciting an actual smile from Derek Hale. The approval of their alpha suffuses the room in good cheer. 

Before they all freshen up and head over to the diner for a well-earned stack of pancakes with all the bacon, Boyd asks to speak with Derek. Stiles doesn’t have any super senses but he’s pretty sure that Boyd’s observation period has stacked up with the benefits outweighing the risks, and that he’s finally decided he’s all in. 

There’s nothing wrong with being a human pack member, John and Stiles certainly don’t ever plan on taking the bite unless they’re literally at death’s door. Derek sends the rest of them on ahead, staying behind to talk to Boyd in relative privacy. Laura shoots them a double thumbs up as she closes the door on their way out. The pack is beaming when Boyd and Derek join them and even Peter’s got a genuinely fond smile brewing so Stiles takes that as an affirmative and mentally adds to his Thanksgiving shopping list quantities. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For content warning, please see the end notes.

Chapter 6 

Peter Hale was known to be cold, calculating, savage even, long before the fire. He is not a wolf you should underestimate. Derek Hale is hardly an Alpha, practically still a pup in every way that matters. A potential threat to his plan of course, but not the one to worry about. Laura, well she was a bit of a mystery. She was bright and friendly, constantly teasing the others around her it seemed. But then he’d seen her, moments when they weren’t looking, moments when the little bitch picked up some small note of his scent and then it was like looking at a young Talia Hale all over again. Ruthless was one of the many words used to describe the previous Beacon Hills Alpha, but Gerard knew another one. A name that not many, not even hunters, dared to speak. 

Tochter des Tieres, Daughter of the Beast. Fenrir’s heir; a true bloodline unlike anything like the other muddied beasts could claim. 

Gerard clicks his tongue, and steps back into the shadows, the Hale pack is growing again and if he wants to be rid of them once and for all, he’ll have to move quickly. It’s a good thing he’s prepared for this, it feels like a lifetime of planning but only one more strike is needed. Just one more and he knows _ exactly _ where to put it, he thinks as he watches the little Stilinski boy making wild gestures with his arms as he yells something at Derek. 

Yes, he knows exactly where to apply pressure. 

* * *

“Scott you are actually the worst at like everything, how can you be this bad?” Stiles whines, tossing yet another piece of his popcorn at him. Fall is quickly turning into winter and even though Scott was the first beta, he doesn’t have the best command of his abilities. 

“Hey, I’m trying!” 

“No you’re not, you’re thinking about Allison’s dimples or something, You think I don’t know that face when I see it?” Stiles says, wishing he had something a little harder than popcorn. “Now I know why Laura keeps a cache of balls on her,” he says, mostly to himself as he fakes looking for one. 

“We’ve been at this for _ hours_. I just wanna go home and shower, maybe go to bed,” Scott lies, and Stiles, fuck he knows his friend okay, he knows that look. 

“No you want to leave so you can go home and text Allison and be an idiot for a few more hours. Scott, what’s it going to take for you to understand that we’re not playing around here, this is fucking serious man,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “One or all of us could be in danger and you know where you’ll be? With your head up Allison’s skirt as the rest of us go on fighting without you!” 

Jackson appears out of nowhere, startling Stiles a little as he eases down on the bench beside him. It’s dark, but they have keys to the small shed that houses the switch for the field lights so it’s enough for him. 

“I got this,” Jackson says, gently bumping against Stiles’ shoulder as he struts closer to Scott, crosse in hand. 

He taps it against his cleats and gives a feral grin, “You know what would look really good on the floor of my backseat?” Jackson pauses, “Allison’s clothes.” Scott charges at him without even thinking and Jackson lays him out, not even needing to put any effort into it. Jackson tuts and his expression doesn’t falter. “Come to think of it, I think I found that cute little black skirt with the flowers on it back there once.” 

“Scott, he’s fucking lying, listen to his heart!” Stiles calls out, but it’s too late and Scott is already bullheadedly rushing toward Jackson. This time he does manage to knock Jax on his ass but he doesn’t stay there long. Instead, he pivots over, trapping Scott’s neck under his crosse and straddling his chest. 

“You’re being a fucking idiot, McCall. I don’t want your little girlfriend, and you’d know that if you thought about it for even a second but whenever her name is mentioned your IQ drops even lower than it is naturally, which is pretty damn impressive.” 

Stiles doesn’t laugh, though it’s harder than he’d like to admit. 

“You love Allison, right?” 

“Yes.”

“You want to take care of her, protect her… right?” 

“Of course!” 

“How are you going to protect her if you can’t even protect yourself?” Jackson asks, “How are you going to keep her safe, take care of her, if you don’t learn how to control your shift, control yourself, huh?” 

Scott wheezed a bit for the first time since Derek bit him, but thankfully as soon as Jackson pulled the crosse back there was plenty of air and he took in as much of it as he could. “Now, pretend the damn ball is a threat coming for Allison and stop it!” 

The ball shoots out toward Scott but before they can sigh at him his wrist snaps out and he grabs it. 

Stiles is off the bench in celebration, Scott has caught a ball before of course but the fact that he’d done it after so much Allison talk was a feat itself. Jackson wasn’t wrong about the massive drop in an already low IQ whenever he was around the girl.

“Doesn’t Allison have like, the most beautiful brown eyes?” Jackson says, faking a dreamy sigh in his voice much like Scott usually does, before he snaps another ball toward Scott, this time hitting him in the stomach. 

“Aww come on man!” 

“The balls are threats to Allison you absolute moron. Someone just broke her wrist, what’s next? I thought you were going to protect her? Who’s going to be there when she needs help if you can’t focus on what’s important?” he asks and Stiles grins. Jackson is… he’s actually helping. 

“What color is Allison’s hair, Scott?” 

“Chestnut B-OW!”

“Allison has a sprained ankle now, and hurt wrist… might be broken, she’s not sure.” 

Jackson keeps going, keeps asking Scott things about Allison and then hitting him with lacrosse balls until metaphorical Allison is practically deconstructed in a dumpster somewhere. But toward the end, Scott pays more attention to him than he has to Stiles all night so, it’s quite an improvement overall.

“I get it, man… this is the first time you’ve had someone you care about, someone who likes you and Allison is pretty cool but she doesn’t need some idiot who can’t think about anything outside of her, especially if that means she’s going to be at risk from literally anything or anyone around her because the rest of your brain shuts off to make heart eyes.”

“I feel like someone should say that Allison is very pretty, much like a Disney princess but also… kinda badass. I’m pretty sure she could save herself,” Stiles says, because it _ needed _said. 

“Lydia may have mentioned that Allison was like a crossbow competition champion or something and tried to teach her self-defense for when they go out,” Jackson shrugs. “But that’s not really the point. If we’re lucky, maybe that will come in handy and she’ll end up saving Scott’s ass. But this isn’t a summer camp archery competition and he’s dragging his feet which is slowing us all down.”

“Dude! I totally called it!” Stiles says, smiling as Jackson shakes his head at him and wraps an arm over his shoulder. “It’s in the eyes… she’s lethal man, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah,” Scott says dreamily, and they’ve lost him again. He’s lucky he’s wearing his cup because Jackson’s next shot is straight to the crotch, which snaps his attention back quite quickly. “Hey!”

“Eyes on the prize, McCall.” Jackson singsongs before swiftly launching another ball his way. “You’re coming up on your third moon, not your first. Use those reflexes.”

Stiles will be happy to report to Derek when they’re texting later that night that between him and Jackson, Scott had actually seemed to improve in practice today. Jackson may be one of the newest betas but, much like Laura, he has no qualms about hitting where their weaknesses are so that they can learn from it and improve. He’s a pretty good strategist, helps Stiles figure out what they need to work on just as much as Peter some times, not to mention he actually knows how to get through to the others which has been one of the things they’ve struggled with most. 

It’s going well, actually. Jackson has been… surprisingly helpful. Sure, it was Stiles’ idea but even he hadn’t planned for it to work out as well as it had. It’s nice to be surprised when it’s something good, though it hardly ever is, he’ll take this one as a win. He’s also counting it as a win that those who popped by the Casa Stilinski for Thanksgiving got along grandly and not a single person slipped in front of Mama McCall, who still wasn’t in the loop per Scott’s insistence.

After he showers and crawls into bed, he lets a small smile slide on his lips and shoots off a couple texts.

_ Text to DerBear: Jax is helping with Scott _

_ Text to DerBear: It’s actually working, I think _

_ Text from DerBear: Don’t call him Jax. _

_ Text from DerBear: He hates it. _

_ Text to DerBear: Liar. He loves it and you know it DerBear _

_ Text from DerBear: I hate you. _

_ Text to DerBear: Liar _

_ Text from DerBear: Maybe._

_ Text to DerBear: Don't be such a sourwolf_

* * *

Stiles comes to in a cellar of sorts, can’t feel his phone in his pocket and there’s not much light to see what’s around. He was leaving the lacrosse game and stopped to get gas when the lights all went out and then he woke up here, wherever here is. Whoever brought him here better not have touched his jeep, or at least just parked it somewhere out of the way instead of trashing it. He’s more worried about the jeep than himself right now.

He knows he doesn’t have to worry. He’s emissary to the Hale pack, members of which were almost all just at and leaving the same game. They’ve drilled this before. If he’s still in Beacon Hills, he knows they’ll find him. If he’s not still in Beacon Hills, there’s a 50/50 chance that his dad will notice he hasn’t made it home when he gets there or that Derek will know something’s up when he’s not badgered by texts from Stiles before bed. Even on game nights, Stiles always texts. 

He doesn’t feel any bumps on his head or soreness in other areas of his body, other than what can be attributed to the slouched position he’d woken up in, so he’s betting this was a chloroform job. The lack of injuries doesn’t line up with any of the supernatural creatures that Peter’s been teaching him about and the lack of monologuing villain means it’s probably not a witch or an evil druid either. 

Just him. In a root cellar. In the dark. No biggie.

Dr. Deaton had been working with him on manipulating mountain ash. He doesn’t have any on him and he doesn’t feel like it would be much help right now if he did. He wishes, not for the first time, that his ability to move things wasn’t limited to ash and that he could believe himself a light source and a way out of here before whatever or whoever brought him here gets back.

He thinks for a second that he feels a thrum of something deep within him at the thought, but shakes it off. Probably just aftereffects of being drugged or the fact that he hadn’t eaten before the game and is now starving. He’s accustomed to postgame curly fries and shakes at the diner with Scott, Jackson, Isaac and Boyd and his stomach will soon be protesting the utter lack of sustenance. Granted, Scott had begged off this evening’s outing for a family dinner at Allison’s so it would’ve just been the other three but it still would’ve been curly fries and a delicious chocolatey shake. 

He slouches back against the roots behind him and tries to reason his way through his current situation. His hands are zip-tied behind him which screams hunter to him, if everything Peter’s been teaching them is right, at least; and he suspects it is. Unprovoked and a human packmate though? Maybe they didn’t know he was human. He’s not actually sure if chloroform works on wolves but would they have even been able to sneak up on a wolf. Maybe Scott, but even he’s gotten much more serious in his training since Jackson started chipping in. 

He’s starting to worry that maybe his dad thought he was staying over at Scott’s and hadn’t tried to call or text. Stiles never breaks the ‘we always answer’ rule with his dad; he’d know immediately something was up. Maybe Derek went to bed early after the game, he does sometimes act like a grumpy old man even though he’s barely two years older than Stiles is. Maybe he didn’t notice there was no text. Whoever took his phone couldn’t have unlocked it, so he knows they couldn’t have responded in his stead. 

It was the last game before the winter break. Both the next full moon and the winter solstice are coming up soon. The whole pack has been antsy with excess energy this week and Stiles had a weird bit of deja vu earlier but he can’t place it now. He feels like he’s missing an important part of the equation and considers trying a very poor attempt at a howl to call his packmates in lieu of the cell phone that’s been chucked god knows where. Maybe the guys will sound the alarm when he doesn’t show up at the diner or maybe they’ll think he went out with his dad who had taken the night off to come see his game for once. 

He feels around again, as much as he’s able, but there’s nothing down here but dirt and darkness and roots. He almost thinks the roots have grown since the last time he brushed up against them but knows they couldn’t have. Dust falls from the top which sends him into a coughing fit, trying to keep as much out of his eyes, nose and mouth as he can by trying to tuck his head down into his shoulder, but it’s not easy with hands that are still bound. 

“Stiles?!” And that’s definitely Derek’s voice getting closer.

“Here,” He tries to call, coughs to clear the dust from his throat and tries again with more gusto, “HERE! I’M IN HERE!”

He hears the rattling of a chain, a frustrated growl from Derek before the chain and the door are wrenched clean off the hinges and the nearly full light of the moon shines down into the root cellar. Derek is barely more than a dark silhouette in the moonlight and it’s beautiful to behold, though it only lasts for just a moment before there’s a blinding flash and smoke that has even Derek coughing and slumping over at the entrance. 

Stiles tries to stand, to get to the opening, to get to Derek but what’s he going to do with his hands behind his back; sass the smoke to death? Muffled footsteps come closer and before Stiles can hope it’s a packmate, Derek’s kicked down into the cellar with him. Stiles immediately scoots closer to Derek. He may be human but he’s less affected by the smoke than Derek is so if he’s their only defense, he’s going to handle it.

He can’t quite make out the shape looming at the entrance. Whoever it is doesn’t cast quite as beautifully against the moon as nice Derek had. Stiles feels fire in his veins. It’s one thing to come after him, but to treat Derek, Alpha of the _ HALE PACK _ this way, to come into his territory with the intention to cause harm- he’s not having it. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Stiles calls out. He can’t sass the smoke to death but it’s clearing and he can certainly sass this asshole.

“My what a brave little human you are,” Sounds the voice of the old man above them. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Stiles grits his teeth and glares, “My mom’s dead you asshole.”

The guy actually has the nerve to laugh, “Well, that makes the pair of you then.”

Mom jokes are one thing, dead mom jokes are never cool.

“If you think you can keep us here, you’re wrong. You only got the drop on him because you brought your little gadgets, sounds pretty cowardly to me.” Stiles says, perfectly aware he’s taunting somebody who appears to be the only one who knows where they are right now and Derek’s still squirming around the cellar floor trying to take a breath that doesn’t burn from the aconite-laced smoke he inhaled.

“Shut your mouth.” The man grits out. Stiles hit a sore spot, Peter would be proud. “You don’t get to speak to me. You’re with them. You may still be human, for now, but you’re with them. They need to be eradicated. All of them. They’re a plague on this earth and I will do what is right.” 

“What is right?” Stiles parrots back, disbelief clear in his tone. “Aren’t you people supposed to have a code? We haven’t done a damn thing wrong by your code. By your own rules, you’re in the wrong here. Nothing about this is right!”

“Nothing about _ them _ is right.” He says back acidly. He’s still engaging though so Stiles thinks that’s something at least.

Derek rasps quietly to him, “A-Argent.”

The lightbulb clicks on in Stiles' head. Chris had sworn to Stiles’ dad that he wasn’t involved in the Hale fire, that he’d stepped away from that life to protect his daughter after an accident cost him his wife. Scott assured them all that Allison wasn’t a hunter and knew nothing about the life. Scott, who’s over at their house for a family dinner right now which means Chris is occupied or that Scott’s being targeted in the middle of an upscale housing development with no pack around. Both options suck but that leaves them with this douche, who must be Chris’s father.

“We almost had the _ infestation _ here cleared out. This filthy mutt and his sister managed to get out of town. They might’ve lived had they stayed gone. I’ve been working too long to let this town fall back into the hands of these feral creatures. They’re monsters, the lot of them.”

Stiles is pretty sure the dude does not know the meaning of feral because he’d like to chew his face off about now and he considers himself fairly civilized for a teenage boy. He’d definitely just implicated the Argents in the Hale fire and Stiles has never wanted revenge more than in this moment, with this asshole lording it over them like he’s doing the Lord's work and should be thanked.

“Listen fucknut, the only monster here is you. I don’t know how you can excuse burning down an entire house full of men, women, and children. That’s coldblooded murder.”

“Talia Hale was a monster. That bitch was chosen as the key. That unsavory creature was chosen over and above all others to defend the greatest source on this coast. And where did it get her? Dead. They’re not invincible. Most pests can be killed off with fire, I find. What I want is a little more juice for that fire. Once the Hales are gone and I am the only contender, I will have the power. I will be the key. I will use that power for good, in a way she never could.”

“Yeaaaah, and by good I’m assuming you mean your own definition of good there and not the Merriam-Webster version?”

“I will purify the earth. The children of Fenrir will end here, tonight. No longer will their line plague the earth. It is the will and the way on the path of righteousness!”

Great, they’re dealing with a geriatric zealot who’s bent on supernatural genocide. Derek’s breathing is evening out. Stiles is reassured that at least one person noticed his absence, he wonders if the others will be able to sense that Derek’s not feeling so hot right now. He’s still not totally sure how the pack bond thing works. 

If they hadn’t yet noticed Stiles’ absence, they will definitely notice Derek’s. They will come, and Stiles feels that fire burning brighter in his veins as he tries to pillow Derek’s head on his lap. He can move and he’s not vomiting black goo so Stiles is taking these as good signs and hoping to stall.

“Yeah, so about all that, I’m gonna have to go with a solid no.”

The man laughs again, though it’s a soulless echo and there’s no warmth to be found in it. “You think you get a vote? You’re being put down with the rest of the dogs. You don’t know your place in the world; you don’t get an inch of space in the new world either. There’s no room for sympathizers and apologists. 

“This land,” Stiles says hotly, “is Hale land. It has _ been _ Hale land for generations and it will _ be _ Hale land for many more. Any power that you think you’re going to get here- tough fucking luck. There is nothing here. Even if there was, it’s not yours to take. You don’t get to come onto our territory and defile it. You don’t get to come here and use Beacon Hills as a means to end the lives of others simply because you’ve judged them to be less than based on some arbitrary criteria of rightness in your own book.”

Stiles feels one of Derek’s clawed hands on his wrist, moving slowly while Gerard is busy with his high key villainous monologue. He gets the zip tie off silently, out of view, and grabs Derek’s hand behind in thanks and in reassurance. The power differential feels lessened by the removal of the restraint, even though the crazy old man is still perched over them. If he can stall long enough for Derek to fully recover and the guy doesn’t have any more bullshit smoke bombs, they have a fighting chance of getting out of here and regrouping with the pack.

“No, boy. The tree may not appear as resplendent as it once did but it’s still alive. Can you not feel those roots pulsing around you? Do they not feel hungry? I will provide. All I needed was to get my hands on you and I knew he would follow. Tonight it will feast on the lifeblood of its so-called _ protector _ and it will be reborn.”

Stiles has a moment of panic because Derek’s not bleeding yet and if the plan is to feed the tree with his blood- he hears the gun cock and the shot ring out before he can even finish processing the thought. His ears are ringing from the close proximity and the enclosed space. Derek jerks on the ground in front of him, blood pouring from his shoulder. 

The door above them is approximated back into place as well as the old coot can manage and he’s up there still, pacing around the stump of a tree and speaking some mumbo jumbo about offerings and blah blah blah. 

Stiles tries to apply pressure to the wound and Derek’s hand comes up to cover his, like he’s trying to reassure him even as his blood is seeping through both their fingers. 

“I can still lift you up, you can run for the trees,” Derek tries to get out between coughs.

“Like hell,” Stiles shoots back at him. “Why aren’t you healing asshole?” 

“Wolfsbane bullet.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Stiles says. 

True to psychopath’s word, the roots do feel like they’re pulsing around them and they still seem to be even further from the dirt wall than when Stiles had initially scooted away. Derek’s blood is soaking into the soil and the tree roots start to give off a small light, until it grows a bit more and he realizes it isn’t light, it’s fuck- the tree is glowing, and it only seems to be increasing in intensity. 

There’s a burning sensation in his chest and Stiles is left feeling breathless as it too grows inside of him. 

Shit, he’s going to die in a dirty root cellar and he’s going to take Derek down with him, being cannibalized by a fucking magic tree because some old hunter decided it needed to happen.

“Go-” 

“Tell me to leave one more time Derek and I’ll read start reciting erotic werewolf fanfiction until your ears bleed!” he says, forcing himself in a more upright position. Since Derek freed his hands he’s feeling less useless, and the pain in his chest is subsiding, if only a little. Still, he can move and think and that means he has time to figure a way out. 

He thinks about how the aconite powder used in hunter’s bullets hunters is a type of supernatural powder, not too different than the mountain ash and that’s the decision made. 

He’s going to believe the wolfsbane powder out of Derek, because if he doesn’t the guy is going to bleed out on him and die in his arms. Not to mention the fact that if the pack does notice they’re missing, and they manage to find them somehow, they’ll get shot with the same shit and he refuses to allow either of those things to happen.

“Shh, take a deep breath… this might hurt.” 

Stiles put his hands to Derek’s shoulder, tried to pull from the core of his very being but what had once been a flicker, a spark according to Dr. Deaton, was now a raging inferno that threatened to overwhelm him. He almost pulls back on instinct, not wanting to risk hurting Derek beyond what was necessary, but he needs whatever magic is inside him to heal his Alpha. He pushes through the pain and forces his mind to push the flow of magic through his hands and into the bullet wound, burning the poison out first, before tying together torn joints, ligaments, skin, anything he can find in disrepair and he mends it with a soothing touch. 

They both gasp when he takes his hand from Derek’s healed shoulder and then he winks, he winks at Derek before everything goes black. 

Derek watches as Stiles disappears and something _ else _ takes his place. The normal whiskey brown eyes are glowing purple and there’s a foreignness to his movements as he gets to his feet. An elegant grace that Stiles himself, has never shown. 

“Stiles,” Derek says, because he can’t _ not _ try to bring Stiles back from whatever has him. That and he’s a little scared, he can feel the pack bond, feel Stiles stronger than ever and he’s half terrified, half elated. 

“You dare think you are worthy? That you could _ ever _ be worthy?” says a voice, not Stiles voice, but it is definitely coming from Stiles’ mouth. “You are but a gnat in the universe, a drop of water that thinks itself an ocean. You are nothing, you are not righteous and you are not just. You are hatred, you are evil, and you will pay for the sins committed against me and mine,” not Stiles says, half floating toward the entrance. 

Derek moves closer, not sure what exactly is going to happen but he hopes whatever is inside Stiles will let him go soon. 

“I will cleanse your blood and feed it to the land as reparations for the loss of my protector,” not Stiles says, now literally staring down at Gerard Argent because he’s floating, he’s outside and he’s floating and he’s backed the old man against the tree which is now taller than he’d ever seen it, even as a child it was barely half as high. 

Derek clambers up and out of the cellar after him, with as much grace as he can muster still half soaked in his own blood. He sees the branches of the great tree are wrapped around Argent’s wrinkled body tightly, there's wheezing in his chest that Derek knows means he can’t speak, can’t say anything. 

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” not Stiles says, and then there’s a sickening snap and Gerard’s body slumps over.

Derek swallows, will Stiles even remember this? He hopes not…

There’s a light pushing out of Stiles’ hands as not Stiles recites some weird phrase over and over. Gerard’s body starts to decay before his very eyes as red blood is soaked into the branches, momentarily turning them the same color. 

Then like a snap, it was gone and Stiles starts to fall. 

Derek rushes forward, barely catching him before his head hits the ground. Had the thing not had him off the ground he probably wouldn’t have. “Stiles? Stiles wake up… come on… STILES!” 

He lets out an anguished roar, calling to his pack. The weight behind it is such that even Scott, clear across town, straightens up in the cushy dining chair he’s in which he’s seated at the Argent’s table and makes to get up and go. 

Derek’s still cradling Stiles underneath the tree like he’s scared to move him when the others arrive. First is Peter, who has always been fastest, followed quickly by Laura and Jackson. They slow their approach taking in the sight before them and the sounds, trying to parse out exactly what they’re walking into. They can hear both heartbeats so they know Stiles is alive but nobody’s reassured by his limp form and the protective way Derek’s wrapped around him.

Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, are there within five minutes and Laura motions at them to stay back. Jackson and Peter are looking at the tree calculating and quietly murmuring to each other and Laura is trying to reconcile her memory of this place, of coming here to a much smaller tree with her mother, to what it looks like now as the scent of both Derek and someone else’s blood permeates the air.

They hear a car pull up in the distance and three sets of feet approach them, Scott first followed by Allison who’s armed with a crossbow and Chris who has his handgun at the ready. Following Laura’s lead, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica fall into formation behind her and separate the Argents from their alpha and emissary. 

“Stiles!” Scott calls, rushing forward only to be stopped by a firm hand on his chest from Laura.

“You brought _ them_?!” She growls at him and he can’t help but flinch backward.

Chris holds his hands up placatingly and holsters his gun, careful not to step forward as he says, “We came to help. I have eyes, I know what Scott is. When I saw him react at dinner, I knew something was happening and we couldn’t let him go alone. He’s just a kid and if we can help, we’re going to.” 

“Any threats to this town are threats to us too!” Allison adds defensively, following her father’s lead and dropping her crossbow to her side.

Scott whips around, eyes wide, “You- what- you _ knew_?”

“I have eyes, Scott,” Chris says. “I’ve been retired from that world for a good six years now but I can’t unknow the things I know or unsee the things I’ve seen.”

“Can’t undo the things you’ve done, either,” Stiles says, sitting up and dragging himself to his feet with Derek rising beside him. He looks fierce. “Your family seems to have a thing for basements except this time instead of locking us all down there and setting us on fire, you tried to sacrifice us to a fucking omniscient tree.”

Chris takes a step back like he’s been slapped by the force of Stiles' words from across the clearing, “I had nothing to do with that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They can hear the truth of the first part but even Stiles picks up on the poorly covered waver in the second half of that statement.

“Oh, yeah? And how ‘bout your sister then? Your father? Papa Argent was just confessing to the whole nine yards before he fucking shot Derek- oh that’s after kidnapping me and incapacitating both of us. Sounds like your family follows a different code and we will not stand for that on our land.” Stiles says as he steps up evenly with Laura, Derek at his side and Jackson and Peter flanking. 

Even Scott has turned to face them in a defensive position. “Your father did this? Hurt Stiles- _ shot _ Derek?!”

“I have nothing to do with Gerard. He disowned me when I refused to let Allison drink his kool-aid. I didn’t want to see her become like- like Kate. And she’s already lost her mother to this ‘family business’ I wasn’t about to make an orphan of her and leave her to their twisted hands.”

Allison, for her part, does look shocked. Like she really had thought her mother died in a car accident and not as a result of some ill-planned hunter bullshit at Gerard and Kate’s beckoning. So maybe Scott wasn’t too far off when he said Allison hadn’t seemed to know what’s going on.

“So you’re saying you didn’t know he was in town?” Derek says.

Chris pauses a beat too long before saying, “He reached out to say things had changed and that everything was coming to an end. He wanted to know his granddaughter. He was supposed to come to dinner tonight-”

“The dinner that you had with Scott?! You were going to have that psychotic murderer in the same room as Scott who wouldn’t harm a fly, in the same room as Allison who you say you’re trying to protect?” Stiles cuts in. When put that way, it does sound hella shady.

“I wanted him to see that we are all good people here, _ Scott _ is good people. I thought there was a chance that he really had changed, that I would get back the man who raised me to be a good person, not the fanatic who raised me to kill the things that go bump in the night.” Chris admits.

Pretty much everybody here has issues with one or both of their parents so, as much as they’d like to be contentious here, they get it. They get wanting to not lose your parent if you’ve got a choice, a chance to bring them back from the brink. Unfortunately, Gerard’s beyond that now but Chris doesn’t know that yet.

“Did you know that he was in town?” Derek asks directly.

“No, he canceled on us this afternoon and said he had a scheduling conflict.”

“Yet you still had Scott over? Even though you lost the opportunity to showboat him?” Jackson says like he can’t fathom why anybody would want to do that. 

“He’s my boyfriend and I love him. Of course he still came to dinner. We had plans. He always keeps his promises. I may not have known about the whole furry thing until tonight but I _ still _ love him and I was not letting him leave without me if I could help him. I am not some damsel in distress, some princess up in a tower. We defend each other.” Allison says, glaring at Jackson who just shrugs in response.

“So you didn’t know he was here tonight, either of you?” Derek says.

“No,” the two remaining Argents answer in unison. Though Chris adds, “So where is he now, then. If he kidnapped Stiles and was keeping you both here- shot you from the looks of it and by Stiles’ own admission- where is he? He’s in violation of the code and I will turn him over to the council. He should answer for what he’s done, whatever he was trying to do here.”

Stiles looks to Derek for permission and then back to Chris with a grimace, “So, about that… remember the part where I said he tried to kill us and sacrifice us to a tree? Well, he kind of pissed the tree off so the tree took him as a sacrifice for its troubles instead. He had a grand plan to take whatever power he could here and then perpetrate some speciesist genocide, the tree didn’t take very kindly to that.” 

Allison looks up to the tree in horror and Chris just runs a hand down his tired face. 

“Let’s not get sappy now,” Peter says and yup that was a fucking tree pun. Peter does not pull his punches, even if their relationship with the man had been complicated at best, it was still the death of their father and grandfather. “The death of that old bastard could bring some brightness in the dark, perhaps the olive branch necessary for a treaty between the Argents and the Hale pack. You’re now the eldest remaining Argent, are you not Chris? That means that the power to make such choices now lies with you.”

Chris looks to Allison and then to Scott before addressing Derek directly, “Alpha Hale, I apologize for the transgressions of my family. As the current head of the House of Argent, I would like to offer a treaty. We can coexist here in Beacon Hills and you have nothing to worry about from us, we ask the same courtesy in return.”

“And if other hunters should come to visit?” Peter chirps.

“We will make it known that Beacon County is closed to hunters. Anyone seeking to enter the territory will have to formally submit for approval.” Chris says.

“And only if they’re hunting something that’s hurting people, if we need the help,” Allison says we like she’s already counting herself as part of this wider world, like she plans on sticking by her defense of Scott and by proxy his pack. 

“Write up the terms and we’ll review it. You know where to find us, I’m sure.” Derek says, a clear dismissal.

Chris nods and then takes a last look at the tree, shaking his head, before he grabs Allison by the arm and starts pulling her back to the car. 

“What about Scott?” She protests, trying to shake him off.

Scott looks torn between going back with them to finish their late dinner and staying to make sure Stiles and Derek are ok. Chris makes the decision for him, “Scott needs to be with his pack right now. I’m sure he’ll text you later.” 

The pack stays still until they hear two doors close, the engine start, and the sounds of the car driving away fade into the distance. 

Threats neutralized, Laura rounds on them immediately and whacks Derek on the shoulder, “What the actual fuck dude, I thought somebody _ died_.”

Derek does look sheepish but Peter smirks and says, “Well, to be fair, somebody _ did _ die Lo. While the punishment for the crimes was not the, ahem, tree-ditional punishment the council would have levied it does seem fitting still.”

Derek then registers that the whole pack, barring John who wouldn’t’ve registered the call, is here and it earns the pack a rare, genuine toothy smile. “You came,” he says softly, patting each of them as they finally feel safe enough to break formation and come see for themselves that he and Stiles are fine.

“Of course we did, you’re the alpha,” Scott says, which coming from Scott is monumental. 

Erica adds on to that sentiment, “and I’m pretty sure we all know that the only thing that could make you sound like that is something happening to your boyfriend so of course we all came running.”

The others hum in agreement. Derek and Stiles both sputter and comically look at eachother and back to everyone else like they’re the crazy ones.

“We’re not- what…” Stiles says, jaw slack with surprise and disbelief.

“Batman, I’m pretty sure even Chris Argent thinks you guys are an item. You get each other coffee and food all the time, on the rare occasions that you’re not making those outings together.”

“We can always find you at the condo, or otherwise find Derek at your house when you’re both off somewhere and you’re constantly all up in each other’s space, “ Isaac adds.

“Sounds like Reyes has a point. Maybe you should give him your varsity jacket and make it official, Stilinski.” Jackson smirks and Laura just cackles and high fives him like they’re playground bullies in a small but jovial gang.

“Now now children, don’t rile them up, they’ve had an apparently eventful evening,” Peter says, and Stiles knew he was his favorite for a reason. “I’m sure they’d like to get home and wash all that blood off each other, curl up and watch some feel good holiday drivel on the television until their insides turn into hot chocolate and the spirit of Christmas joy erases all thoughts of Gerard Argent.”

Peter is no longer his favorite. Also, that plan doesn’t sound half bad.

“Sooo… did anybody besides Scott drive here or are we all standing in the middle of the woods at night in December with no way home?” Stiles asks, ignoring all of their commentary and especially Peter and Laura’s gleeful looks.

Everybody looks around at one another and shrugs.

“Derek calls, you answer,” Boyd says simply. 

“This SUCKS,” Stiles says, probably not for the first or last time that night as they all start their unplanned hike back out of the preserve and into town. The betas could, in theory, run back from whence they came but the fear of losing Derek and Stiles is too fresh so they all feel better staying close until they get to the edge of the preserve. 

* * *

Laura heads home with Peter, giving Stiles and Derek their space and use of both bathrooms contrary to what her eyebrows seemed to think was gonna be going down once they got inside the condo. The pack all keeps a change of clothes there so Stiles is fresh and clean much sooner than Derek, probably because Derek has way more blood to clean off of him. 

Stiles does not want to think about that. They’re back where they should be, safe and sound. 

While he waits for Derek to finish up, his stomach reminds him that he is in fact starving. He takes up Peter’s idea of hot chocolate and gets that mixed and heated before checking to see what’s good in the fridge. He ends up with two cheesesteak Hot Pockets, courtesy of Laura’s private stash in the back of the freezer, and half a container of holiday cookies from Casa de Boyd. 

When Derek finally emerges into the living room, Stiles has only saved him two cookies and a mug worth of cocoa. Stiles motions for him to join him on the couch, like he’s laid out a feast on the coffee table for the alpha and not a snack fit for a three year old. He’s got the fuzzy throw blanket from the couch around his shoulders like a cape and now his stomach isn’t trying to eat itself; life’s good.

“So,” Stiles says when Derek finishes his cookies and half the cooling cocoa, “that was a wild fucking ride.”

Derek just shrugs like what can you do, that’s life.

“At least we have some answers now.”

“Do we?” is what the eyebrows seem to say.

“We can finally take down the board in the dining room, that’s solved. I’ll have to hang one of Isaac’s paintings or something instead. I don’t know what else to do with all that wall space that’s gonna be freed up,” he rambles.

“We also know that it wasn’t your fault.” And that’s what he was leading up to. The gentle delivery not hitting Derek any more gently than a punch to the gut.

“Wha-” Derek chokes out.

“You heard him. He said they went after your family to get to your mom and to any heirs that might have inherited her guardianship. When you and Laura escaped and he still couldn’t unlock the power of the Nemeton, he cut it down out of spite. He would have found a way to wipe you all out regardless of any acquaintances you may have had. It was never about you, it was about him doing whatever it took to get what he wanted. The fire was not your fault. That’s on Kate and her bastard of a father.”

“Nemeton?” Is all Derek can think to say to that. 

“Oh, yes.” Stiles smiles, “They have a name. They also shared with me something that’s been puzzling me for months which now makes much more sense with context.”

Derek looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Your family has guarded this tree for generations, right? Well, A) you’re from a legit bloodline and that’s part of why your alphas are chosen and B) When Laura gave up her alpha spark to heal Peter back in September, they were by the Nemeton and it fed from the spark too and gave as good as it got- which is why Peter did actually wake up and heal but also why you got your shiny red eyes. They chose us, the pair of us actually, to step up into the place your mother used to hold. We’re the guardians now. Argent wouldn’t have gotten shit from that tree, both because he pissed it off by being a psychotic murderer and because he cut it down when he didn’t get his way.”

“So when we came back, he what? Figured that we were tied to the tree?”

“Basically, that’s my take. When you both left he knew Laura couldn't have been the new key or she wouldn’t have been able to leave Beacon Hills. When nothing he tried got him what he wanted, he didn’t want anybody else to have it either.”

“But it’s not cut down- it wasn’t a stump when I found you.”

“It grew with the pack. When our bonds grew, the strength of our pack grew- it grew with us. The power that Gerard thought he could use to eradicate werewolves, wasn’t there because the Nemeton had already given its power to us when it chose us to protect it. We didn’t know about it because Deaton probably thought it was dead, had looked it for years until we built this pack. If we’d known about it, visited it, it would have grown even stronger. Our being there tonight, feeding it your blood, was like jumper cables.”

“He pissed off the tree and the tree had a vehicle and the motivation,” Derek adds.

“Winner, winner chicken dinner,” Stiles says. “Or maybe it’s tree dinner. I don’t know. Is the Nemeton technically a carnivorous plant now or do sacrifices to supernatural stuff not count as eating meat?”

“I don’t want Gerard and _ meat _ in the same thought,” Derek answers, a disgusted look on his face. 

“That’s fair…”

Derek brings their mugs back into the kitchen to place in the sink, notices the tupperware there and calls out, “Did you eat ALL the cookies?!”

“No!” Stiles laughs back, “You had two. I had the rest for dinner.”

Derek wants to be cranky when he comes back in but he can’t be because Stiles is stretched out gloriously across the couch, some obnoxious holiday film on the tv, and smiling up at him.

“Peter’s plan sounded pretty good actually.” He says by way of explanation and lifts an arm for Derek to come join him on the couch. 

If this is the way Stiles wants to spend the rest of his winter break, Derek is down with it. There would ideally be more cookies, but this is good too. Stiles is warm and solid against his back, head angled up the throw pillow so he can see the movie around Derek’s head. Stiles is making sassy commentary about the unrealistic nature of events and Derek gets lost in his own mind.

He thought he was going to lose him earlier. The feeling of terror that ripped at him when he realized Stiles was gone, he never wants to feel that again. Isaac had texted him to tell him to stop holding Stiles up and hogging all his time, he’s late for their standing post-game engagement. Stiles wasn’t with him and if he wasn’t with them like he was supposed to be, where was he? 

He wasn’t answering his phone. 

He always answers. 

The family phone rule also applies to pack, especially when it’s the alpha calling. 

No answer. 

No Answer.

He’d called John to see if maybe he and Stiles had plans since John was off tonight. John had just chuckled and said, “Nope, no plans. You boys have fun.” and hung up like he thought Derek was asking if Stiles could sleep over. Which, in retrospect, apparently he had because everyone thinks they’re dating.

Laura and Peter helped him track Stiles’ normal routes home and see if maybe his old jeep just had a flat or the engine finally gave up on him. No such luck, but Derek did find it parked behind the gas station and then immediately texted Laura and Peter so they could fan out appropriately. 

There was a familiar scent in the driver's seat that is very much not Stiles and when he realized who it was, it left a cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. 

He’d felt such relief at finding Stiles, whole and relatively unharmed. He made a beeline for him the second he could hear his heartbeat, hear his voice. 

In his haste, he’d gotten distracted and Gerard took advantage of his moment of weakness. He could’ve gotten them both killed. He’s sure if the goal had been to kill him quickly. Argent would’ve aimed for the heart or the head, but his plan was to slowly bleed Derek dry and then let the tree take them both.

He doesn’t really remember much about the tree, nothing of this magnitude at least, but he finds himself exceedingly grateful to it. If what Stiles says is true, the Nemeton is responsible for the alpha spark he carries. It’s responsible for the people he’s lucky to count as his family now. It’s responsible for him and Stiles being alive and not dead in an old root cellar. He says a mental thanks to the tree and feels a warmth wash over him. Maybe it’s true that they’re both bonded to the tree after all. 

Stiles’ commentary slows down to nothing and the warm huffs of breath to the back of Derek’s head are coming more evenly. He’s definitely asleep, one arm tucked under Derek’s head and the other wrapped warmly around him. Derek could easily lift his arm and head up to his own bed but he’s never wanted to escape physical closeness less than he does right now. He does manage to reach for the remote and turn off the tv before letting his eyes drift shut in the couch nest Stiles had made for them.

* * *

They’re supposed to be celebrating not dying/winter solstice/holidays as a pack at Boyd’s but an argument has broken out at the desert table that has Nana Boyd shaking her head and scooting out to the other room so she doesn’t have to get involved. She’s got zero chill for bullshit and that’s why Erica, Laura and Peter love her so. 

“Dude, don’t start with me. I will take you down and I won’t feel sorry about it either. No means no.” 

“Stiles, you know the peanut butter ones are my favorites,” Scott says, trying to pull his puppy dog eyed expression but Stiles isn’t going to fall for it. 

“Yeah, just like they’re _ my _ favorites, and _ Derek’s _ favorites. Jackson said he would share the oatmeal cookies. There’s black forest cake! Pick something else. I will fight you, Scott… and I will win. You can’t have any.” 

Scott gives him a look clearly proving that he’s underestimating Stiles’ ability to lay him on his ass, forgetting he’s not just the lanky human he’d grown up with but has become strong and powerful in his own rite. He doesn’t let it bother him, Scott is a young, innocent, stupid little wolf. He will learn better soon.

“Alright, you think you can take me?” Stiles grins, “Let’s take it outside wolf boy. Derek and Nana Boyd will both be pissed if you break the table again, and whoever wins, can have all the peanut butter cookies. Deal?” 

“Fine, Deal.” Scott agrees too readily for his own good.

“And with those two small words, Scott has sealed his fate,” Jackson says, smirking as he bites into the gooey, still warm oatmeal cookie. 

Scott rolls his eyes but he follows Stiles out the front door and into the back yard. He really thinks he’s going to get those cookies. Nana Boyd’s house backs up onto the preserve, it’s not as hidden away as the Hale house was but it was far enough away from any nosy neighbors that they could breathe freely as themselves. 

“In this corner,” Jackson says, pointing to Scott. “We have teen wolf, Scott McCall. Scott, any last words?” he asks, acting as if he’s Caesar Flickerman holding a microphone out to Scott. 

“Last words? It’s just cookies man…” 

“Is it though?” Jackson tuts, “Scott you’ve been best friends with Stiles for how many years now? Well, let’s just say a lot-” he says, quickly cutting him off. “Have you ever actually managed to get between Stiles and a cookie, or a Reese’s cup, or anything he set his mind to really… and that was before he got all juiced up and landed himself a buff alpha boyfriend. Wolves are territorial, as you know.” 

It is very apparent that Scott realizes that he might have made a mistake in that moment, but he brushes it off. Jackson just rolls his eyes and mutters, “idiot.” 

“In this corner,” he starts, pointing to Stiles who is going along with the show by faking some weird sort of boxing moves, or what he might think are boxing moves. “Stiles Emissary Stilinski, wielder of magic, protector of the Nemeton, and Alpha Mate to the one and only Derek ‘Almighty Alpha’ Hale.” 

Jackson’s smile grows when he hears Scott’s pulse start to speed up, Stiles is goofing around and he’s breathing just a little heavier from movement, but he’s not scared. Scott though, Scott is going off like soured milk. Dude has definitely realized he picked the wrong fight. He should’ve just shared the oatmeal cookies with Jackson or learned to love sugar cookies and gingerbread. 

“Stiles, can you tell me a little about your strategy today? What skill or talent do you have, that is going to bring you out on top of your opponent here?” 

Stiles smiles, “Well Jax, I’m glad that you asked actually. You see. I’ve known Scotty boy since we were in elementary school together. I know his strengths, his great many weaknesses, and I’m going to keep those cookies away from him.” 

“Hey-!” 

“Yes, yes, go on,” Jackson says, as if he completely agrees. 

“So really, all I gotta do… is outsmart him, which let’s be real, isn’t even that hard, and strike at his weak points. I love the dude but he’s not the most observant and it’s gonna be his downfall.”

“That is a solid strategy my friend. I wish you all the luck out there today, not that you’ll need it,” Jackson says, chuckling as Stiles walks back over to his side of the clearing. Most of the pack have moved outside to see the show, Derek is still hanging back by the door already munching on one of the peanut butter cookies as if the outcome has already been decided. Jackson considers going over to fake interview him but it’s best that they get this settled quickly. 

“Bring it on, Scotty.” Stiles says, taunting him to come closer, with his hands. 

Scott shakes his shoulder, twists his neck to pop it a couple times and then he’s moving forward, fully thinking he’s going to tackle Stiles to the ground but at the last moment Stiles sidesteps and Scott goes head first into the giant willow tree behind him.

Stiles clicks his tongue, “Scotty, Scotty, Scotty,” he says, whipping around to grin at his best friend. “You know I was reading a story the other day, about this dude that had a peanut allergy,” he says, pausing to let Scott come at him again, this time instead of side-stepping he wraps one arm around Scott’s bent neck and shifts his weight onto his right side to pull him down like a big eyed steer. 

He’s obviously out of breath now, but Stiles is holding Scott down fairly well to not be using any magic. “Anyway, so this guy has a peanut allergy and he goes on a date with this girl, and she just looks so beautiful, right- he just can’t help himself, and he kisses her.” 

Scott makes some sort of noise of complaint either at being held down or at the thought of somebody else kissing that’s not Allison, but Stiles just shakes his head, digs his heels in deeper into the dirt as he uses all of his strength to keep Scott on the ground. “No, stay down Scotty and listen. The next thing he knows though, this guy, he’s going into anaphylactic shock because the beautiful girl he was about to take on their first date, had just eaten a peanut butter cookie before they went out.” 

Scott’s sounds are coming out muffled now, while it wasn’t his original position, Stiles had managed to put his face against the grass and dirt because Scott wouldn’t stop moving and kept trying to talk over his story.

“There’s one valuable piece of information you’re missing here bud,” Stiles says, looking back at the pack members that are watching from the porch. “Anyone want to help him out with it?” 

Erica, Isaac, and Boyd all look to one another, Jackson is pretty sure he can guess but he kind of enjoys watching Scott eat dirt too much to offer a reply, but before it goes on any further, Derek is speaking up from the back of the group. 

“Allison has a peanut allergy. Even I know that.” 

Scott stills under him and Stiles knows there’s not going to be any more arguments over peanut butter cookies. “We good here bud?” He says giving Scott’s shoulder one last pat and levering himself up off the ground.

“You couldda just told me that,” Scott huffs, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. 

“Yeah, but then you’d never learn your lesson McCall,” Jackson answers, reaching out a hand to help him up off the ground once Stiles has stood up. 

“And that is?” 

“That Stiles can totally kick your ass, werewolf or not.” Erica quips.

“Not the point,” Derek says.

“Stiles, and by extension Derek, will never say no without a solid reason.” Boyd says, “Trust their judgment.”

* * *

“You know, you’re welcome back to the council any time you wish,” Duke says, tapping his cane against the cement sidewalk where they’re paused in front of Peter’s apartment building. He’d given his approval to Alpha Hale and his young pack, his seer having informed him that the threat to all had been dealt with swiftly and by only two members of the pack. He couldn’t bring himself to leave without a few more words to Peter.

“I have no doubts about that, I am _ very _ good at my job,” he answers, a cocky grin on his lips. 

“Yes, well… do you plan to come back then?” he asks, trying and failing for nonchalance. Peter Hale’s absence was felt by all the council members and he’s pretty sure the snarky little wolf knows it. He probably intends to lord that over him if he does, in fact, return to his pre-fire duties as a ranking member.

“In time, first I would very much like to spend some time with my pack. Heal the scars that are left behind, as much as possible at least,” Peter says, his smile fading into something a bit more sincere. 

“Yes well…” Deucalion says, clearly contemplating a dig at Peter’s visibly healed scarring and for once deciding better of it. “I have something for you, a signing bonus you could say, or a farewell gift. However you wish to look at it. You know how much it displeases me when the balance is upset and someone steps out of line.” 

“Oh?” Peter asks, actually intrigued. If Peter had a reputation, Deucalion certainly did as well. This should be good.

“Yes, your little emissary got me thinking that I hadn’t exactly been doing my due diligence here. Just a little something, do enjoy. I’ve already texted Laura the address, you should get there quickly if you want to enjoy the show. Something tells me Talia’s daughter might be just a little impatient.” 

“What have you done?” Peter asks, clearly on edge with the mention of Laura. 

“She’s fine Peter. I’m not stupid enough to cross _you_,” Duke says, shaking his head. “I don’t have a death wish, just telling you to hurry or there won’t be any fun left to be had.” 

Peter growls and opens his phone, seeing the address typed out in a text. It's a warehouse not too far away, actually. He heads off in that direction, the sound of Duke’s laugh in his ears for moments after he’s out of range. When he gets there he hears the familiar beat of Laura’s heart and more than a few painful grunts in another, raspy female tone. When he opens the door the smell of burning flesh makes him flinch but he sees who is hanging there, bound with chains and rope and something else, probably overkill but understandable. And his niece, holding a tiny flame to the bottom of her bare feet, the dear.

He backs away and trusts Laura to handle it as he closes the door behind him. He doesn’t play with fire.

He waits across the street, far enough away so that the smell doesn't haunt him further but close enough to hear the muffled cries of Kate Argent as she slowly burns to death. He’s proud of Laura, just as he was proud of his sister. There is at least one member of every pack that trembles when they hear the name Peter Hale. He is the werewolf Boogey Man, The Reckoning, the Bluthund, the son of Fenrir, and when it comes to violence, to bloodthirsty revenge, Peter Hale is second only to the Hale women. 

While he would happily slit Kate Argent’s throat and sleep peacefully only a few short hours later, he hears Laura’s monologue and smiles. This has been a long time coming.

“Eleven members of my family burned to death in the fire that you started. So I will stay here, with this flame until every speck of you is singed and scarred. You will feel their pain eleven times over or until your skin and bones turn to ash. I’m not picky, it’s whichever comes first.” 

He’s not _ that _ barbaric… well maybe he is but he certainly wouldn’t have had the patience to carry it out. He spares a moment to wonder if they should dispose of her at the Nemeton, let her meet the same fate as her father and give the old tree another taste of the revenge it also sought for itself and its fallen protector. That’s a thought for Peter of tomorrow, for now he tunes in to the melody that his dear niece is composing and it begins to soothe the ache of the family he lost to the flames.

* * *

On the night of the actual solstice, which happens to be two nights before the full moon, the pack is gathered in the preserve. The extra energy they’re all feeling from the pull of the moon is shared with the tree, each pack member placing a hand to its trunk in turn in thanks for protecting their pack and vowing to protect it and this land in turn. 

The Nemeton glows in thanks. Between the lights twinkling on the branches of the Nemeton and the light of the nearly full moon, even Stiles can see well enough in the dark. It’s the shortest day, but the longest night of the whole year and they’re all free to breathe and just be themselves here. 

As a parting gift, until their next visit back, Stiles says to the tree, “This won’t stop humans but it will keep anything else away from you. If anything tries to bother you, you let us know.” And he blows a handful of mountain ash to fall into a perfect circle around the base of the trunk. 

The pack eventually hikes back toward their waiting cars. They’re a bit early for their monthly pack breakfast but they’re sure the waitress won’t mind having them all in twice this week. Stiles lets out a happy sigh at the thought of the fluffy, steaming stack of pancakes that await him and Derek puts a warm arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close.

“We’ve done good,” he says, looking out as their pack, their family making their way through the trees ahead of them. 

Stiles beams at him and gives him a quick peck on his wind-cooled cheek, “Yeah, we did alright. You’ve got some good pups, Alpha Hale.”

Derek nuzzles the side of his head and gives him a peck of his own, “I’ve got a good Alpha Mate too. The best, in fact.”

“Stop being gross!” Scott calls back from ahead of them.

They hear the telltale sound of a playful smack and Erica saying, “Stop bothering our pack dads, it’s cute that they love each other.”

“Flattery will not earn you a bite of his pancakes, babe. If you want pancakes you need to order them not waffles.” Boyd says, pulling her closer into his side and further away from Scott.

Erica whines, “But I just want a _ bite_.”

“Boyd’s right, flattery will not earn you a pancake bite. Just split a short stack with Scott and nobody will get forked this time.” Laura says. “Let them be as gross as they want, happy parents make a happy pack.”

Stiles can feel Derek’s blush against his cheek as Derek says, “Shut up Lo, you’re older than I am. I’m nobody’s dad. Peter’s the oldest, why isn’t he the pack dad.”

“Technically my dad is the oldest, sorry Peter. But I still have the best dad jokes. I will happily take on the mantle of pack dad.” Stiles preens before adding, “And I love all my pups equally but I absolutely will fork anybody that comes for my pancakes. It’s a sacred bond that should never be broken.”

“I’ll show you a sacred bond,” Derek whispers into his ear but unfortunately they’re surrounded by individuals with excellent hearing who immediately erupt into a chorus of mimed gagging and jeering before they decide it’s in their best interest to scurry along ahead to the cars and the diner and leave these two to sort their shit out in the relative privacy of the cold, dark woods.

“Wow, DerBear, that sounds like something I would say. You trying to steal my lines?” Stiles says, pausing in his walk to turn fully to Derek and wrap both of his arms around his neck. If the kids are giving him privacy, he’s gonna take them up on it. Longest night of the year, why waste it.

“You can’t call dibs on all the dad lines, Stiles,” Derek says, pointedly ignoring the use of the nickname. He knows Stiles derives great joy from making him squirm when he uses it so he tries not to give him the satisfaction. “We’re pack dads now, think of the children. What would they say if they knew you didn’t want this to be an equitable partnership?”

“You,” Stiles says, punctuating every word with a soft kiss, “Are. The. Actual. Best.”

“Mhmm,” Derek agrees, smiling against his lips.

Their moment is interrupted by a loud honk and Laura yelling, “HURRY UP LOVEBIRDS OR I’M TAKING THE CAMARO AND YOU’RE WALKING!”

They do make it to the diner roundabouts the same time as everyone else, but only because Laura has a lead foot and the sheriff likes her well enough not to pull her over when she’s exercising it if the streets are empty. Derek successfully gets a forkful of pancake without getting stabbed; that’s love and sometimes sacrifice comes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Gerard and Kate are inherently evil. They meet gruesome ends. There is hypothetical talk of harm to Allison. If this is a sensitive topic for you, you may want to have someone pre-read this piece or skip it. Stay safe!
> 
> Prompt-ish inspiration for the story from the tumblr fam:  
adri-da-durgin: But can you picture what it would have been like if Laura had just lost her powers instead of being killed? She would have totally undermined Derek at every turn. He shows up to glare at Scott during lacrosse and she cuffs him over the head and waves cheerily. Derek tries to fight Scott to teach him control, Laura throws tennis balls at them both till she has their attention and then teaches Scott breathing exercises. I think that even without any powers, Laura would act as alpha, teaching Scott and Derek everything she could  
clotspolesonly: #seriously i want this in my life #what if Laura had inadvertently used her alpha spark to heal Peter #instead of Peter killing her to get it #so neither of them is dead and neither of them is an alpha #of course in that case Scott wouldn’t have gotten bitten in the first place so i guess it doesn’t work #STILL #IT’S AN IDEA


End file.
